


13 Nights

by nerdgirlwalking



Series: Holi-daze [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Movie Puns, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Harold and his glasses are gonna get it, Season Five Didn’t Season Five the Whole Thing Up, Seriously this universe is so very much AU now, Spoilers for some old movies and books, The Machine Still Ships Them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:59:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdgirlwalking/pseuds/nerdgirlwalking
Summary: Once again we have a series of loosely interconnected short fics with a squint and you’ll see it holiday theme. Because this dork right here loves Halloween almost as much as she does Christmas. More madness, more mayhem, more fluff, maybe even more stoned Root, who knows. Abandon all (okay like 75%) of season five canon yee who enter here!





	1. Scooby Doo

**Author's Note:**

> I'm BAAAA-AAACK!  
> Second verse same as the first, you get one update a day for the next 13 days! That’s right there’s a bonus day because I’m not trying to fit this thing within the bounds of a song this time and 13 is spooky. Obviously this universe is totally AU now. If you haven’t read 12 Days (though you could I'll wait), you need to know that Shaw got away from Samaritan on her own. Root and the nerds worked their magic. Samaritan went bye bye and our girls got back to working the numbers. One time Root got kidnapped by a bunch of bad guys and was super high when Shaw found her, she also may have gotten slightly run over another time trying to save Shaw…and I realize I was sort of hard on Root last go round. But I also let her get a cat so that’s a positive thing.  
> Anyway, this basically is the dorkiest timeline. No messy finale for the fans, blood bath, PS3 DLC, not the love boat except for Harold and Grace (no I’m not bitter why would you ask?) shenanigans happened in this world.  
> This is my Halloween treat (or a trick depending on your mileage) to you.

 

 

“I don’t understand why we’re not in there busting some heads right now,” Sameen Shaw grumbled as she quickly glanced both ways before crossing the street. She had been watching the building she was walking towards for nearly an hour now and was growing bored. Which didn’t help the minor detail that she was already agitated by the fact that they were working this number to begin with. “If these guys are really dangerous enough to warrant an all hands on deck situation, then Root should have backup with her inside the building.”

 

“Just stick to the plan, Shaw,” John Reese instructed her.

 

“Relax, Sweetie,” Root attempted to soothe her over the comms. “She called all of us in because once this little meet and greet is over we’re going to have to track multiple targets.” Shaw could hear the clacking of keys in the background, “And she needed me to work my magic on these relics of a forgotten era.” Root snorted, “Pretty sure these computers went to college when I did.”

 

“You didn’t go to college.”

 

“I took a tour once.”

 

“Hijacked a dorm room to hide your hacking,” Reese added.

 

“That was fun,” Root agreed.

 

Shaw switched her ear piece to their private channel, “Root.”

 

“What?” The other woman breezily replied. “It was.”

 

“I don’t want to even know.”

 

“No, it’s actually a great story…”

 

“Not the time.”

 

“But I was very clever,” Root argued. Her voice dropped to a purr, “And I think you’ll agree once you hear it, oh so sexy.”

 

“Root, can you possibly save story time for some occasion when you’re not alone in a building with a bunch of suspected bad guys?”

 

“Trust me, Sweetie. I can multitask. Besides, I’m almost done up here and our little lambs are still having their tea party downstairs…”

 

“Exactly, lambs plural. You’re outnumbered in there.”

 

“You really think I can’t take these idiots?” Root’s pout was clear in her voice even if Shaw couldn’t see it, “I’m hurt, Sam.”

 

“Any idiot can get lucky,” Shaw countered. “Pretty sure that’s how Lionel ended up with a kid.”

 

“Hey,” The detective’s voice filled the line. “Don’t come at me just because your lady friend is too stubborn to take in some back up.” He was watching the front of the building in an unmarked car.

 

Root gasped in mock affront, “Stubborn?”

 

“More importantly,” Shaw countered, “Lady friend?”

 

“Lionel, she specifically told me that I’m the only one required to be in the building,” Root scolded. Maybe the annoyed tone wasn’t all an act? “And I think we all know that she knows better than anyone.”

 

“I do believe we could argue that point, Ms. Groves.”

 

“Great, gang’s all here,” Shaw grumbled. “And why aren’t you the one inside doing the hands on hacking, Finch?”

 

Before he could reply Fusco chimed in again, “If you didn’t want us to comment on it, then why aren’t you yelling at the old lady on a private channel?”

 

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, “I thought I was.” Damn machine must have switched lines on them again. “And old lady? Are you trying to fulfill every TV cop stereotype tonight?”

 

“Pretty sure I saw a box of doughnuts on the passenger seat when I did a perimeter check earlier.”

 

“Should we really be encouraging Ms. Shaw’s outbursts, Mr. Reese?”

 

“Just sharing intel, Finch.”

 

Shaw made a quick left and walked down an alley to the van where Reese and Finch were stationed. The back door was open, Reese sitting on the bumper while further in Shaw could just make out Finch typing away in the dim light of a laptop screen. She still didn’t understand why she and Root needed to be here if Finch was doing his computer thing on site too.

 

“Shouldn’t you be at your post, Ms. Shaw?” Finch turned to raise an eyebrow at her. “If you’re that concerned about Ms. Groves’ security…”

 

“I can see the backdoor from here and that bike can go from zero to sixty before you can blink,” Shaw replied. “But a ride that sexy also attracts attention, better that if I get noticed it’s getting on the thing rather than sitting on it staring at our mark like an idiot.”

 

“If it’s that problematic why did you opt to bring it to begin with?”

 

“Finch,” Reese, ever the alert soldier, tried to warn him off this dangerous line of inquiry. “Maybe don’t…”

 

“Maybe,” Shaw interrupted, “Because I wasn’t planning on working a number tonight.”

 

“Which is my fault by the way,” Root chimed in. “I had a lovely evening planned but then I answered the phone when Harry called and torpedoed date night.”

 

Reese turned to grin at Shaw. “Shaw agreed to date night?”

 

She held up a finger in warning. The thin ice he was standing on was about to crack courtesy of her fist, if he didn’t wipe that smug expression from his face. “Shaw agreed to burgers and sex on the back of a motorcycle on her night off, because Shaw doesn’t date.” They hadn’t even gotten to the burger portion of that plan before Root’s phone had begun to ring.

 

“Could have fooled me,” Fusco mumbled.

 

Shaw didn’t catch the little aside as she was already working up an indignant head of steam. “Shaw was promised one godforsaken night off after three weeks of non-stop numbers.” Three weeks of stakeouts and undercover hells, and when she did get to go back to the apartment, cracking a beer and crashing into bed immediately after draining it in two gulps. Three weeks without a moment to catch a break. And the two weeks before that when Root had been out of the country. But who was counting?

 

Wait, Shaw, Shaw was counting. “But no, apparently the three stooges can’t handle one tiny number on their own.”

 

“You’re not the only one who has a life outside of this circus,” Fusco began to complain.

 

“Shut it, Curly.”

 

Finch sighed. “I am sorry we interrupted your evening, Ms. Shaw.” And he actually meant it. The fact of the matter was that while they were all a little exhausted by the increase in numbers lately, the ladies in their company had worked more than their fair share of them. If the task hadn’t required someone crawling through several yards of air ducts to reach the computers they needed to access, he never would have contacted Ms. Groves. But it did and so he had. He’d regret it even without Ms. Shaw’s angry commentary. He knew they needed a break. “Truly.”

 

“Don’t be sorry, Finch,” She growled as she leaned into the back of the van to glare at him. “Be better! Or find someone else.”

 

“Perhaps, we can look into recruiting more assets…”

 

“Oh you mean like the three other teams HAL already has in play?” She and Root had sort of stumbled into that information a few weeks ago. “None of which either of you have bothered to call before this point?” Just the thought of them made Shaw’s gun hand twitch. Both Finch and Reese caught the move. Reese stood up while Finch inched towards the front of the van to put some additional distance between him and Shaw. “You mean assets like them, Harold?”

 

Reese’s eyes narrowed as what she was saying clicked, “There are other…”

 

“Oh yeah,” Shaw nodded. “Harold never bothers to call them though. Maybe he and his robo-kid are keeping them in reserve for when we get put down. Though he didn’t call when you all thought I had bit it.” Apparently, she was still holding some rage about the whole thing.

 

Finch choked, “They were established after that unfortunate time.”

 

“Oh you want to know about unfortunate, let me…”

 

“Sweetie,” Root cut the threat off. “She promises she’ll leave us alone for an entire weekend and will call in Team Beta to back up the boys if you calm down.” She chuckled, “Harry’s heart rate is spiking. You’re scaring him.”

 

Shaw was sure she was. Finch wasn’t an idiot. At least not when it came to his own survival. Shaw would bet those fight or flight instincts were raging right about now. But, “How do you know that?”

 

“He’s wearing a Fitbit.”

 

“Seriously?” She couldn’t help but snort.

 

Finch cleared his throat. “I do a great deal of sitting. Being sedentary can kill someone same as smoking or drinking.”

 

“Or anything fun,” Fusco chimed in.

 

“And it’s only networked to The Machine.”

 

“Nothing wrong with a little personal TLC,” Root replied. “Is everyone sufficiently calmed down now?”

 

“I don’t know, what does the Fitbit say?” Shaw huffed. After a beat she added, “I want a four-day weekend.” She backed away from the van and crossed her arms over her chest. “And I want all that stuff you just said in writing.”

 

Reese shook his head, “It’s not like The Machine can sign a sworn statement, Shaw.”

 

“No, but I can shove whatever it prints out down Finch’s throat if he calls us this weekend.” She saw him gulp in the corner of her eye. She grinned. Then Shaw looked up at the traffic camera that conveniently pointed down this particular alleyway. “Also tell Harper if she gets shot again to feel free to show up at Reese’s door.”

 

“Harper Rose?”

 

“Yeah, try to keep up John.” She kicked the side of the van just to rattle Finch. She smirked when the resulting bang did indeed cause the man to jolt forward in his seat. “And did you two really have to steal the ugliest van this side of 1973?” The van in question was from a now-defunct florist and its paint job loudly reflected its former owner’s profession. A bright blue base coat was covered in an assortment of neon-hued, stylized gerbera daisies. “Damn thing looks like the Mystery Machine’s evil twin.”

 

“Did you ever consider how we’re sort of like the gang from Scooby Doo?” Root asked, her voice was slightly muffled, like she had something in her teeth.

 

Shaw really did not want to know. “No, because no one outside of twisted little teen dramas actually does that.” She scowled. “Are you high? Did someone slip you something?”

 

“What?” Root gasped. “No, why would you say that?”

 

“Because the last time you went on about cartoon characters you were tripping balls in a sewer and it was Ninja Turtles,” Shaw elaborated for the group. Finch let out a rather undignified snort. Even Reese grinned at that comment. She wasn’t sure if Fusco was choking or laughing though.

 

“I have no idea what you are referring to, Sameen,” Root scoffed. Though by her tone, it was clear she knew exactly what Shaw was referring to. “You have quite the imagination. Are you sure you’re not high?”

 

“Uh huh,” Shaw deadpanned. “Are you sure your favorite Go-Bot didn’t record that little interlude?”

 

“Ladies, is this really the best use of our secure channels?” Finch meekly attempted to chastise them.

 

“What else are the kids supposed to do while they wait, Harry?”

 

“Something…not…this…” He replied at a loss for better ideas.

 

“No, no this is good,” Root countered. “It helps me focus.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes, “Blathering on about nothing, suddenly helps you focus?”

 

“Just go with it, Sweetie.”

 

“No way in hell.”

 

Root, as always, simply charged forward against any resistance to her brilliant plan. “Well, for starters, I'm obviously Daphne.”

 

Shaw looked at a smirking Reese. The tables seemed to have turned from them making fun of Root to Root annoying Shaw again. John was enjoying it far too much already. She was going to get all of them for this. “Obviously?”

 

Root’s breathy chuckle was clear, “Of course, Sweetie. And obviously Bear is our Scooby.”

 

“Bear is ten times the dog that annoying mutt is.” Was Scooby fucking Doo scuba certified? Did he speak Dutch? Could he detect drugs? Okay reasonably she figured he was probably all over that last one, what with all the snacking and hanging out in a van with a bunch of hippies. But still, Bear was the better dog by a mile.

 

“Who freaking finds Scooby Doo annoying?” Fusco muttered. “Seriously, have you ever done anything normal in your miserable life, Shaw?”

 

“Your mom.”

 

“Did you just your mom me?” He sputtered. “What are you twelve?”

 

“Who was the one defending Scooby Doo’s honor just now?”

 

“Children,” Reese chuckled.He looked back over his shoulder at Finch who just shook his head at the lot of them.

 

Root, meanwhile just kept on as if no one else had commented, “Lurch is Shaggy.”

 

“Not Fred?” Lionel questioned. Shaw couldn’t believe he was actually encouraging this lunacy by asking questions.

 

“Sameen is Fred.”

 

“Great,” Shaw grumbled. “I'm an idiot in an ascot.”

 

“The other chick was Velma.”

 

“Why must everything conform to your backward gender roles, Lionel?" Root scoffed, "Besides, Harry is Velma."

 

Shaw genuinely laughed at Finch's disgusted face. It was just that funny. "Why must you include me in this at all, Ms. Groves?"

 

“Maybe because you still insist on calling her Ms. Groves,” Shaw muttered under her breath.

 

"We're all a part of the team, Harry."

 

"Oh yeah, Nutella?” Fusco challenged, “Then who am I?" Seemed like they had run out of characters already. If Cuckoo Clock called him Don Knotts…

 

"That annoying little boy in the series with the wizard in the crystal ball."

 

“What? How do you figure?”

 

Reese chuckled, "Went with the deep cut on that one, Root."

 

Shaw scowled at him, "You actually know what she's talking about?"

 

Reese nodded, "So does Lionel judging by his tone."

 

“Damn right I do and she’s wrong!”

 

"Cheer up Detective," Harold replied not looking away from his computer. "She could have anointed you Scrappy."

 

Shaw’s head whipped around so fast Reese was surprised she didn’t snap a vertebra. “Wait, you know Scooby Doo?”

 

“I was a child once, Ms. Shaw.”

 

“Funny, I was sure you popped out of the womb in a little suit with a laptop.”

 

“Nice one,” Fusco chuckled.

 

“What Shaw is trying to say is that it seems a little bit before your time,” Reese tried to play peacemaker given the particularly unamused expression on Finch’s face.

 

Of course, Shaw didn’t appreciate it. “Okay, John is the one implying you’re old. All I was saying is that typically you have a stick in your…”

 

“Alright kids,” Root cut in. “I’m finished in here. You should be receiving the upload now, Harry.”

 

“And the party?” Shaw asked snapping back to business mode.

 

“Still swinging,” Root replied. “I’ll meet you on the street in five. She says there’s no need for me to stay in the building.”

 

“Don’t make sense,” Fusco idly muttered. “Maybelline is the one who hangs out with the dog and eats like she's stoned all the time. Seriously, have you seen her demolish a pizza? She should be Shaggy.”

 

“What doesn’t make sense is how invested you are in this stupid ass conversation, Lionel.”

 

“Shaggy and Daphne never had that undeniable chemistry that Sameen and I share,” Root replied, her words had an odd echo. She was probably back in the vents. “And it's my analogy so if I say she's Fred, she's Fred.”

 

“If it's based on Sapphic shenanigans, then I still say she should be Daphne and you should be Velma.”

 

Shaw mouthed Sapphic Shenanigans like it was the vilest of curses.

 

“Does Harry really strike you as a Fred or a Shaggy?”

 

“Well, there’s the ascot,” Fusco mused.

 

“Why does Harry have to be involved in this topic at all?” Finch interjected.

 

“Is anyone else concerned that Finch has started referring to himself in the third person? That's basically borderline super villain stuff.” The guy already had an all seeing super computer. Was a cat and a volcano lair really that far behind? Shaw thought about it for a moment. Beretta was sort of like the team cat, even though he mostly lived with Root and Shaw. So basically Finch really was this close to monologue-ing over an active volcano. They should probably be concerned.

 

“Weren’t you telling us what Shaw would and wouldn’t do in relation to date nights earlier, Ms. Shaw?”

 

Reese snapped his fingers, “Vincent Price.”

 

“Did you just have an aneurysm or something?”

 

“The series with the annoying kid,” Reese explained. “Vincent Price was in it. That could be Finch.”

 

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. She was surrounded by insanity, or was it stupidity? Reese had a moronic little grin on his face like he’d really accomplished something with that mental leap. Both, she decided with a nod. Definitely both.

 

“Hmm powerful, disembodied voice? Gives out cryptic orders?” Fusco clicked his tongue, because of course he knew what Reese was talking about. “Sounds more like the Magic 8 Ball.”

 

Thriller started to play softly in their ear pieces.

 

Shaw groaned. “Fabulous, you've sucked Skynet into this nonsense now too.”

 


	2. The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait, who was Root's number?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I guess you guys are cool with this holiday surprise program I've got working! Awesome, I think we're all going to have a bit of fun the next few nights.   
> Now this piece was something a few of y’all requested when I wrote 12 Days. I hope I did this particular wish justice.   
> A bit of the inspiration for this one also comes from a hilarious doodle/comic courtesy of @littlemachine_ on twitter. I saw a particular comic and laughed for a good five minutes and decided one day I'd work it into something (I hope it's cool that I have now). If you’re familiar with them, I bet you’ll know exactly which comic I’m referencing before too long. If you’re not, go check out twitter after you’re done reading here. There’s tons of fun stuff and cool artwork for a few fandoms just waiting for your eyeballs to take it all in!

 

 

Shaw placed her newly cleaned Mossberg 500 tactical shotgun into its place in the gun locker. That was the last bit of housekeeping left from her latest number. She was finally free. And since she was free, “You wouldn’t happen to know where Root is with her number would you?”

 

“She’s still indisposed at the moment,” Finch told her, not looking away from the monitors in the subway car. Now that Shaw thought about it, he hadn’t looked at her at all since she had stormed into the subway twenty minutes ago. “She had to call in Mr. Reese…”

 

“What?” Shaw leaned around the door to the gun locker to glare at him. “I thought this was supposed to be an easy one?”

 

Finch adjusted his glasses. “The number itself wasn’t complicated but apparently she needed someone to pick up the perpetrators from on-site while she remained with the number.”

 

Something didn’t smell right. “Why would she stay with the number? We never stay with the numbers after the job is done.”

 

He finally turned to look at her. “It’s nothing to be so concerned over, Ms. Shaw. I assure you that Root is fine.” He fidgeted with his glasses again.

 

She pursed her lips. “Okay.”

 

Finch seemed taken aback that she had relented that easily. “Excellent.” He gave her a timid smile. He gestured to the lines of code streaming across the screens. “I still have some follow up work here to take care of the loose ends when it comes to Mr. Bartel’s case. No new numbers have come in however. It appears you’re free for the rest of the evening.”

 

“Sure Finch,” Shaw nodded. “I’ll head out, grab some dinner. Let Root know if she checks in with you first?”

 

“Of course Ms. Shaw. Enjoy your evening.”

 

Shaw pulled her phone out of her pocket once she reached the top of the stairs. Finch had called Root, Root without prompting. Not to mention he was acting shiftier than usual. Something was definitely up. “I hate to have to do this,” She mumbled to herself as she opened a special app.

 

She glanced up to where she knew Root had set up a micro camera to watch the area. She waved the phone. “Last chance to fess up, Rosie.”

 

Shaw waited for a few seconds to see if The Machine would blink. When her phone remained silent she checked the tracking program tied to the bug she’d placed in Root’s favorite leather jacket. The jacket she knew for a fact the woman was wearing that day. A map of the city soon filled the phone’s screen. A small green dot was hovering over Brooklyn. Shaw tapped the screen to zoom in.

 

Bay Ridge. Okay, nothing too alarming there. Not a bad part of town, lots of little houses, families, parks. She was pretty familiar with the area. She tapped the screen one more time to find the exact address Root was hiding out in.

 

She nearly dropped the phone when she saw it. For what was probably only the third time in her life Shaw felt something akin to dread. “No, no, no.”

 

For a brief instant Shaw considered marching back downstairs to throttle Finch with his own tie, but quickly dismissed the idea. That would be a waste of time she might not have. “Your day is coming, Harold,” She swore. He would pay for this treachery.

 

If Shaw got out of this disaster alive that is.

 

She made the trip across town in near record time. The two story detached home was unassuming from the outside. The street it sat on was quiet. Shaw quickly circled around to the back and hopped the fence. The yard was dark, the soft glow of the kitchen light made two figures sitting at the table stand out in sharp relief. Shaw slipped her phone back out of her pocket and hit speed dial.

 

After a moment the phone began to ring. The taller of the two women inside held up a phone. The shorter one nodded. Shaw released a breath as the call was answered. “Hey, Sweetie.”

 

“Root,” She ground out between clenched teeth. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Working my number.” Shaw watched as she cocked her head to the side, tossing the long fall of her hair over one shoulder. “I’m going to be a while yet. You probably shouldn’t wait up.”

 

“You have thirty seconds to get out of my mother’s home.”

 

She watched as Root’s shoulders jerked in surprise. “How did you?”

 

“Twenty-seven seconds.”

 

Root lowered her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me she lived here?”

 

“Twenty-four and just so you know I am armed.”

 

“Of course, you’re always armed, Sweetie.” Root moved towards the back door. She squinted out into the darkness, consequently enough, almost directly in Shaw’s direction. Damn tattle tell machine. “Why are you lurking back there instead of coming inside?”

 

“Why are you inside?” Shaw countered. “And why did no one tell me my mother’s number came up?”

 

“You were busy,” Root replied as if it were just another day. If it were any other irrelevant number. “Everything’s fine now by the way.”

 

“I know that,” Shaw growled. “If it weren’t you wouldn’t be the only one I’m going to kill tonight. Ten seconds.”

 

“There’s no need for all these dramatics, Sweetie.”

 

“Don’t make me drag you out by the hair!”

 

“As appealing as that sounds,” Root sighed. “Not in front of your mother. I’m trying to make a good impression.”

 

“Fat chance of that.”

 

“Rude.”

 

“Sameen,” A voice called. It echoed through the phone’s speakers. “Stop being rude and come inside.”

 

“What the hell?” Shaw hissed. Root shrugged and hung up the phone. She stood stunned in the backyard while the second woman shoved past Root and stepped out on to the back deck.

 

“Sameen, I am not getting any younger child.”

 

“Maman,” Shaw groaned as she finally began to move. Soon she was standing in front of an older version of herself.

 

A soft hand reached out and cupped her cheek. Shaw inhaled, a light floral scent filling her lungs. She still used the same hand crème. Her mother gave her a watery smile, “I knew you were still out there.”

 

“How?”

 

“You’re too stubborn to die,” She chuckled. “I told the men who came to me they had made some sort of mistake. Not my Sameen. I’m sure they hear that from all the grieving mothers. But they aren’t me,” She smiled. “When the end comes it shall be you, Cher, and the cockroaches to inherit the earth.” She pulled Shaw into a fierce embrace.

 

Root was smiling at the pair of them from the doorway. Shaw flipped her off behind her mother’s back. Her smile only grew wider as she stepped out on to the deck as well.

 

After what felt like an eternity, her mother let go of her and turned to smile at Root. “Root said we wouldn’t be seeing you tonight. But I knew better, didn’t I dear?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Root replied, with a shy dip of her head. What in seven hells?

 

“Now how about we go inside and finish catching up?” Shaw’s mother turned to enter the house. “I do believe Mr. Gunderson has had enough of a show this evening.” Shaw twisted around to see an elderly man rapidly closing the curtains on a second story window in the house next door.

 

Root held the back door open, “After you, ma’am.”

 

“So polite.” She smiled and went into the house.

 

Shaw grabbed Root by the elbow before she could follow. “You told her who you were?” She hissed.

 

“She already knew you were alive,” She argued. “She overheard the Big Lug asking if I had told you about her number coming up…”

 

“Okay, you realize you screwed up when even John thinks you should have told me?” Though he was going to get it too, for being complicit in this mess.

 

“I was going to,” Root argued. “Later and with alcohol present.”

 

“Having a last drink handy is a good idea on your part.”

 

“Your mother confronted me and I just confirmed her suspicions.” Root crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you making this into a thing? I thought you said you’d introduce me to your mother if she knew you were alive?”

 

“In the abstract, Root. I was speaking in the abstract.”

 

“So you lied.”

 

“No,” Shaw snapped. “I never thought this situation would ever come up.”

 

“Well it did, and we’re here now. So get with the program.”

 

Like it was that simple? “That doesn’t mean you couldn’t make something up to tell her about you. You’re like a slot machine for fake IDs.”

 

“I can’t lie to your mother Sameen,” Root replied as if that fact should have been obvious. “What if we ran into her on the street one day?”

 

“As if that’s likely,” Shaw scoffed. “And don’t you have a veritable early warning system in your head that could keep that from happening anyway?”

 

“Well, what if she decided to stop by the apartment and I was there?”

 

“She doesn’t know where I live.” Shaw didn’t even know that her mother knew that she was alive until five minutes ago. Not like she would have told her the address. And if for some reason she went looking it wasn’t like Shaw’s name was on the lease or anything. How the hell would she find the apartment?

 

“Sam, we’re in a relationship. I cannot just give any old alias to your mother. I cannot lie like that to her. I don’t want our relationship to start out that way.”

 

“You’re not in relationship with my mother.”

 

“No, I’m in one with her beautiful, brave, yet frustrating daughter.” Root looked at her with those damn stupid doe eyes of hers. “I just want her to trust me.”

 

“I don’t trust you half the time.”

 

Root reached out and gently pat her on the cheek. “Making up lies to hurt me is not the way to win this argument, Sweetie.”

 

Shaw threw up her hands, “Whatever. Just grab your stuff. We’re leaving.”

 

Her mother’s face appeared in the kitchen window. “Sameen, stop being difficult and come in for tea. I made cookies.”

 

“She made cookies,” Root shrugged. “I’ve had to smell them baking for the past half hour. I’m not leaving without one.” With that she turned and walked back into the house.

 

Shaw muttered a few choice curses at the universe and then followed her inside. The kitchen was warm. The air smelled like sugar and traces of her mother’s perfume. Shaw glanced around. She used to sneak cookies from the jar on the counter. The table Root was sitting at had seen her going over many a book report back in the day. It wasn’t the house she grew up in, but seeing her mother’s things spread about the room gave the place a sense of familiarity.

 

“Took you long enough,” Her mother chastised her. She waved towards the table, “Go sit down.”

 

As she moved to follow her mother’s directive, Shaw noticed that there was a very familiar stack of photo albums sitting adjacent to Root’s seat. “Oh fuck no.”

 

“Sameen!” Her mother snapped, “Language.”

 

“Maman,” She almost whined. “Why do you have those out here? Root doesn’t want to see that stuff.”

 

“On the contrary dear, we’ve already been through three of them. She was quite enamored with your graduation and enlistment photos.”

 

“She was just about to show me your grammar school years.” Root was practically vibrating with excitement. “I bet you were adorable.”

 

“She was. I made a beautiful child if I do say so myself.” She set a large tray of cookies down in the middle of the kitchen table.

 

Ooh, she made the ones with pistachios! Shaw hurriedly took a seat.

 

“A beautiful woman too,” Root agreed.

 

“Eh,” She turned to glance at Shaw. “She scowls too much. She’s like that cat on the computer. The ill-tempered one.”

 

“You did not just compare me to grumpy cat,” Shaw mumbled around a mouthful of cookies.

 

“You should see Sameen with Beretta.”

 

“I’ve seen her with all sorts of guns dear.” She sat a glass of milk in front of Shaw with a smile and then settled into the seat across from Root with a cup of tea in her hand.

 

“No, he’s a cat,” Shaw explained when Root didn’t. At her mother’s blank expression, she elaborated, “We have a cat.” She pointed between herself and Root to emphasize the we. “And are kind of in a weird timeshare situation with a dog. His name is Bear.”

 

“The dog is named Bear?”

 

Shaw grabbed another cookie. “We didn’t name him.”

 

“Because you share him?”

 

“With some of our coworkers,” Root chimed in. “He’s sort of like our team mascot, but Beretta is just mine and Sam’s.”

 

“Sameen,” Her mother exclaimed.

 

“What?”

 

She pointed at her in disbelief, “You have friends!”

 

“I have associates.” Root cleared her throat. Shaw rolled her eyes. “And Root.”

 

“And a cat named after a firearm.”

 

“He’s a tomcat,” Shaw argued. She waved her hand at Root, “She wanted to give him some nerd-name.”

 

“Schrodinger is a perfectly respectable name, Sweetie,” Root replied. She took a bite out of the one cookie she had been able to sneak away while Shaw had been distracted. She held a hand up to her mouth as she chewed. “Oh my god.”

 

Shaw smirked, “I know right?”

 

“I think this is the second best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

 

“Root,” Shaw groaned.

 

“What?” She reached out for another cookie. Her face was the picture of wide eyed innocence. “Honestly where are your manners, Sam? Making such a horrid implication in front of your mother?”

 

“I’m going to strangle you in front of my mother.”

 

“And how exactly is that any better?” Root shook her head, “I’m an innocent in all of this.”

 

“Maman has spoken to you for more than five minutes, she knows by now that is a lie.”

 

Root reached for the tray and started to pull it towards her. “Just for that you’re not getting any more of the cookies Maman made for me.”

 

“Maman made what for who now?” Shaw snorted reaching out for the tray.

 

“Didn’t we tell you, Sam?” Root grinned. “I’m the favorite daughter now. It’s that whole saving the day thing. It’s really working in my favor.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes, “Only because no one told me she needed saving.” She noticed her mother wiping her eyes. “Uh, Maman?”

 

“I’m fine. Seasonal allergies.” She stood up. “I’ll just pop to the restroom and take something.” She pushed one of the photo albums practically into Root’s lap. “There’s some great ones in there.”

 

“Thanks,” She beamed.

 

She rubbed Root’s shoulder. “Of course dear.” With that she turned and left the room.

 

Shaw watched her leave with a frown. She glanced at Root, “Was she upset earlier?”

 

She shook her head at her, “She’s happy to see that you’re happy, Sam.”

 

“Maman isn’t the happy tears type.”

 

“It’s not every day you return from the dead, Sweetie. You make quite an impression,” Root smiled softly. “Trust me, I would know.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Shaw sighed. She distractedly reached for another cookie. She shoved the entire thing into her mouth and then scowled when she realized she had already drunk all her milk. She stood up and walked over to the fridge.

 

“I didn’t know you played little league,” Root chuckled.

 

Shaw rolled her eyes as she pulled the milk carton from the fridge and refilled her glass. Damn photo albums. “Only until I was six. After that they didn’t allow girls on the teams.”

 

“Well, you looked adorable in your little uniform.”

 

“That wasn’t exactly the point.” Glass back to full, Shaw put away the rest of the milk and walked back to the table.

 

“Oh my god,” Root squealed as she turned the page. “Look at your little pig tails.” She smiled up at Shaw, “And that dress! Pink is definitely your color, Sweetie.”

 

“I will cut you,” Shaw growled. She slammed the glass on to the table causing some of the milk to slosh up and over the side. “In front of my mother. I don’t care.”

 

Undeterred, Root held up the photo album and glanced between it and Shaw. “That grumpy little face is exactly the same. It’s astonishing.”

 

“Root.”

 

She pouted as she lowered the photo album. “Fine,” She huffed as she turned the page. Root’s shoulders stiffened as she ran her fingers over a picture on the top left-hand corner of the page. She looked up at Shaw with wide eyes, “Is that?”

 

“My dad?” Shaw nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“You have the same eyes.”

 

“So I’ve been told.” Shaw reached out and turned the album to the side so she’d have a better angle. She remembered that day. They had been playing in the park. Maman had taken that picture just after Papa had held her up and told her they were going to get ice cream. He had been laughing because Shaw had asked if she could get four scoops since Maman had made her eat all her broccoli at dinner the night before. “I don’t think mine have ever looked that happy.”

 

“I don’t know,” Root said reaching for her hand. “Pretty sure I’ve seen you giving a sandwich or two that look before.”

 

“Idiot,” Shaw snorted.

 

“What can I say?” She gave her hand a squeeze and then pulled away. “I’m a fool for you, Sweetie.”

 

“I’m going to check on my mother.” Shaw stood up from the table.

 

“Ask her if I can get copies of some of these,” Root called after her, knowing as always not to push Shaw when she had reached her emotional limit.

 

“Not a chance,” Shaw grumbled. She was sure she heard Root mumble something about pulling up the camera function on her cell phone. Great. If she showed Reese any of those pictures she was dead. Shaw didn’t care how good in bed the Perky Psycho was. She’d burry her.

 

She literally bumped into her mother about five steps outside of the kitchen door. “Woah,” She breathed as she reached out to steady her.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

Shaw cocked an eyebrow, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I almost knocked you out.”

 

“Hardly,” Her mother chuckled. “I’m made of sterner stuff than that.”

 

“True.” Anyone who had to raise a kid like Shaw had to be. Not that she was a big trouble maker or anything. She had been far too focused on her grades and ultimately getting in to med school. But Shaw knew having a kid with her…difficulties, and bringing up said kid mostly on her own after losing her husband, meant that Maman had a will of steel.

 

“Why have you never brought her here?”

 

“Maman,” Shaw sighed. “For the same reason I let them tell you I was dead. It wasn’t safe.”

 

“Sameen, three men apparently tried to kill me tonight because they thought I saw them vandalizing the neighbor’s house.”

 

“Is that Gunderson guy that annoying?” Shaw had contemplated tossing a rock through the window at his nosey ass, but didn’t see it as a reason for murdering anyone.

 

“The other neighbor across the street. Root tells me it was tied to something political,” She shook her head. “I honestly had no idea what was happening before your girl swooped in to save me.”

 

“Oh.” Shaw probably should have asked about that before now.

 

“My point is that I can find trouble all on my own.”

 

“All the more reason for me not to drag mine to your doorstep.”

 

“You’re my child, any trouble of yours is trouble of mine.” She smiled as she watched Root thumbing through the pages of the photo album. “She is no trouble.”

 

“You don’t even know her,” Shaw scoffed as she turned to watch Root through the doorway as well. Yep, she was taking pictures of the pictures with her phone. The pink nightmare dress was probably already in the cloud. “She’s nothing but trouble.”

 

“Alright, I will allow that I don’t know everything about her. But do you know what I do know from our brief acquaintance?”

 

“No,” Shaw grumbled. “But you’re going to tell me anyway.”

 

Her mother swatted at her arm. “That girl in there loves you.” She smiled softly. “The way her eyes change when she speaks of you…it is all I never dared to hope for, for you.”

 

“Maman…” Shaw weakly protested. Talking about this sort of thing was uncomfortable enough for her without doing it with her mother of all people.

 

“Are you trying to tell me she doesn’t?”

 

“No,” She sighed. “She does. I know she does.”

 

“And does she know?”

 

“She knows that if I’m capable of anything remotely close to it, it would be for her.”

 

Her mother pulled her into a side hug. “I am proud of you.”

 

“Why because I found someone almost as emotionally stunted as me?” There was a swift pinch to her hip. “Ouch!” It didn’t actually hurt; it was more the shock of it even happening that caused Shaw to cry out. Being around her mother again was making her act all kinds of weird.

 

“I am so grateful that you are here and that you aren’t alone in the world, but god knows how you managed it with that attitude of yours fully intact.”

 

“I find it’s one of her more attractive qualities,” Root announced coming out of the kitchen. “Not to intrude, but I need to use the ladies room.”

 

“Down the hall…”

 

“And to the right, yes.” Root nodded. She stepped past the pair of them and disappeared around the corner and down the hall.

 

“How did she?”

 

“There are some questions you just don’t ask about Root, Maman.”

 

Not long after that, Shaw finally convinced her mother and Root that it was time for them to go. “You’ll come back for dinner soon?” Her mother asked as they stood on the front porch this time.

 

“Our work schedule is sort of unpredictable,” Shaw hedged.

 

“How does the fifteenth work for you?” Root asked.

 

“I think I’m free that night?”

 

“Great,” Root bounced down the front stairs. “We’ll bring dessert.” She kept walking towards the SUV she’d stolen to drive over here, wanting to give Shaw and her mother a private moment to say goodbye.

 

“Guess we’ll be seeing you again soon,” Shaw grumbled. Not that she actually minded, now that she thought about it. Was just the principle of the thing. Root didn’t need to make arrangements with her mother without checking with her first.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make all your favorites so you don’t have to actually speak.”

 

“Like leaving the conversation up to you and Root will be that much better for me?” Shaw shook her head.

 

“What if we promised not to talk about you?”

 

“Ha! I’m Root’s favorite discussion topic this side of hard drives.” And now that she had access to someone who had a wealth of what would be considered highly embarrassing stories for a normal person? Fat chance that Root wouldn’t take every opportunity to press for every last gory, childhood detail. “She probably won’t shut up long enough to eat.” She shrugged, “More for me I guess.”

 

Her mother pulled her in for another hug. “Take care of yourself.”

 

“I always do, Maman.” Shaw pulled away from her. She noticed Root watching them with a soppy smile on her face.

 

Her mother noticed too. She nodded at Root, “That is the best kind of trouble, yes?”

 

Shaw shook her head, “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

 


	3. Don't Look Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last time Reese agrees to be the manny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter but I hope still fun.

 

 

Reese couldn’t believe he had lost the number. Wait, scratch that. Reese couldn’t believe that he had lost the ten-year-old who was their number.

 

Shaw was never going to let him hear the end of this one.

 

She had been right beside him one minute. He had taken a phone call to check in with her parents, as he had been posing as one of their household staff. Resse had shifted his focus from the girl for one minute and when he looked down again Christine was gone.

 

Unfortunately, he wasn’t familiar with the area. Christine was the daughter of a state senator and when her number popped up, the family was taking a vacation to their home upstate. The local park was sprawling and beautiful. But it wasn’t covered by many security cameras so not even The Machine could help him find the wayward little girl at the moment.

 

“Finch,” He said as he activated his comms. “Can you get me anything?”

 

“I’m sorry Mr. Reese. The crime rate for the local population is so low that the township hasn’t felt the need to invest in many security cameras in public areas.”

 

“Probably why they planned to grab the girl here.” The plan had been to kidnap and ransom the girl back to her father for several million. The Machine had gotten them involved because one of the kidnappers, a low-life named Jules Scarpa, was planning on screwing everyone else over with a car bomb once the money was in his hand. Root and Shaw had been assigned to the would-be kidnappers/murder victims while Reese provided close security for the girl and her family.

 

“Undoubtedly,” Finch agreed. “Mr. Scarpa and his entire team have been handed over to the authorities by Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw, however. You seem to be simply caught up in a fit of childhood exuberance.”

 

“This is the last time I agree to play the part of the manny.” The family’s regular babysitter had met with an unfortunate case of food poisoning after dining out at a local bistro, thanks to an extra special bowl of Root’s carrot soup, and had to be hospitalized. Mike the manly many, had come highly recommended. His score on sitter share dot com was four and a half stars. Finch had said the half point deduction was for realism.

 

Root had said it was because the children would be afraid he might grind their bones to make bread for his fellow giants.

 

Shaw had just asked for another beer.

 

“It was the best way to protect the number given Senator Sutherland’s penchant for sleeping with the female help.” It was well documented across several publications and a few bonus lawsuits. You had to love those family values types. “And Mrs. Sutherland’s understandable aversion to placing the temptation into their home.” Which meant that there was no way Root or Shaw could have played the part of temporary babysitter.

 

Reese saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Christine had been wearing a red coat. He spun around just in time to see the back of that coat as it disappeared between the trees. “Christine!” He shouted. “Wait for me!”

 

“Did you find her, Mr. Reese?”

 

“No, not really,” He huffed as he ran. “I think she’s trying to earn a merit badge in advanced hide and seek.”

 

“Oh dear.”

 

“At least I know what direction she ran in this time,” He replied. “I’ll let you know when I have her.”

 

“Do you want me to contact Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw to assist you?” Ms. Groves did have some au pair experience after all. And Ms. Shaw was surprisingly good with children, even though she claimed to hate them. Of course that didn’t mean much. In all honestly he had heard Ms. Shaw claim to hate everyone and everything but Bear at one time or another throughout their acquaintance.

 

“No!”

 

“Very well,” Finch sighed. “Good hunting, Mr. Reese.”

 

Reese didn’t reply. He was focused on the uneven ground he was running across. Christine seemed to be bobbing and weaving through the trees up ahead. Every few seconds he’d catch a glimpse of red before she’d be obscured by the trees again.

 

He was gaining ground on her when his left foot snagged an exposed root and he toppled over. Reese spat out a mouthful of leaves as he slowly sat up. Christine was nowhere in sight. “Great,” he grumbled as he stood up. This day was certainly keeping him humble.

 

He quickly, but carefully crossed the rest of the wooded expanse. A large brick square stretched out just across from the tree line. Several black, wrought iron benches lined the space. A few of them were occupied. A man was reading a book on the bench directly to his left. A mother with her two children across from where he was standing. Just to the right of her, a college aged woman balanced a sketchbook on her knees. Unfortunately, Christine wasn’t among them. He paced the square trying to determine which direction the girl may have ran off in.

 

“Read your cards?” A voice called out. Reese turned to see an elderly woman seated behind a portable folding table. A placard on the front of it offered psychic readings and insights from the spirits for ten dollars. The woman was dressed in a short-sleeved, floral print blouse and had a rainbow-hued, woven shawl draped over her shoulders. The outfit worked for the role she was playing but not really for the unseasonably cold weather. She was shuffling a stack of tarot cards in her hands. She stopped for a moment to smile up at him. “I also do palms?”

 

“Not today but,” He reached for his wallet. Pulled out a five-dollar bill and placed it on to the table.

 

The woman smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“Go grab yourself some coffee maybe? It’s cold today.” Everyone else sitting around the square was wearing coats and gloves in deference to said cold. It was the reason he had made Christine pull on that red coat before they left the house earlier.

 

The woman pulled her shawl closer to her neck. “I’ve been out here in worse.”

 

“I’m sure,” He smiled. “Say you haven’t happened to see a little girl running around here. Blonde hair, red coat?”

 

She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “There was someone in red across the way a few minutes ago. Don’t know if it was a child. I was looking down, just caught it in the periphery.”

 

“That seems to be catching,” He mumbled.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Ah,” He cleared his throat. “Which way was that?”

 

She pointed a bony finger towards the north east. “Over there, that trail leads to the water.”

 

He nodded, “Thank you, ma’am.” Reese began to walk away.

 

“One tip,” She called after him. He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Things aren’t always what they appear to be.”

 

“Okay.” That was a little random. But when Reese thought about it, it was pretty standard stuff. General enough that it could be applied to almost anyone’s life, yet ominous enough to make someone question their situation and want to talk more. A line to hook superstitious idiots and then talk them out of their money.

 

She gave him a little wave. “That one’s free. I hope you find what you’re looking for, son.”

 

“Thanks again,” He nodded to her as he jogged off towards the trail she had indicated. What an odd little woman. But at least her tip had been good. He could see the pond in the distance as he reached the foot of the trail, and sure enough someone was there.

 

An ornate footbridge stretched across the pond, bisecting the water below. A red-clad figure was standing on one of the railings, arms outstretched. The hood of the coat was up, obscuring the figure’s face from view. “Christine!” Reese called out to make sure he was chasing after the right person.

 

The figure stiffened at the call. Good, it seemed like it was her. After a beat she began to walk across the railing like a gymnast on a beam. The sight made Reese a bit nervous.

 

Could the kid swim? Would she drown if she fell in? Even if she could, he’d have to take her to a doctor to pump her full of antibiotics given that the water was probably full of nasty bacteria based on the amount of geese floating along its surface. What if she hit her head on the bridge before she went into the water?

 

“Christine!” He shouted again. The figure in red jumped down from the railing and ran off into the trees on the other side of the bridge. “Son of a…” He quickly went to follow.

 

She was fast. By the time he crossed the bridge she had vanished from sight once again. “Good thing I’m not actually getting paid for this,” Reese grumbled to himself. This whole nanny gig was harder than he thought. He made a mental note not to give Shaw any shit the next time she mentioned doing something with Gen. Kids were a lot of work.

 

He pushed himself covering the span of grass between the bridge and the trees in seconds. Reese slowed to a stop just within the tree line. Dry leaves crunched under his feet. He took a moment to listen for any signs of Christine. He thought he heard someone laughing for a moment, but the voices sounded older. Probably just sound drifting from another part of the park and echoing off of the trees.

 

He walked a bit further in. “Christine! This isn’t funny,” He called out. “If you come out now we can stop by that bakery next to the old church before I take you home?” Kids liked cookies enough for that to be a sufficient bribe right?

 

He saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Reese spun around. There, he could vaguely make out some playground equipment through a break in the trees. Of course that’s where the little girl would run off to. He set off again.

 

On a raised platform that connected two sets of monkey bars to a wavy slide, a figure in a red coat stood with their back to him. Reese approached as quietly as he could so as not to spook the girl into running off again. The platform came to about chest height, making the girl seem much taller.

 

Reese reached out for the girl’s arm. She shuffled away about a half step when his fingertips brushed the sleeve. “Christine?” The figure in the red coat slowly turned around.

 

“Tell me honestly, John,” Shaw smirked down at him. “How did you let a pre-teen give you the slip?”

 

“Shaw, what the hell?”

 

She ignored his question to offer another of her own. “Seriously, did the CIA teach you nothing?”

 

“Where’s the number, Shaw?”

 

“Relax, Root has her.”

 

That wasn’t exactly comforting. “So you just decided to go for a jog in her coat?”

 

“We decided to test your tracking skills,” Shaw hopped down from the jungle gym. “Congratulations, you kind of suck. Pretty sure I could have strung you along for hours if I wasn’t so damn hungry. Root owes me fifty bucks and a massage.”

 

Now, Reese was even more stunned. “Root bet on me?”

 

“No,” Shaw chuckled. “She bet I wouldn’t be able to keep you running around the park like a jackass without tearing this coat.” She did a little twirl. “The length on this thing is fine. Kid is tall for her age.”

 

“Or you’re short for yours.”

 

Shaw ignored him. She gestured to her chest, “Course I couldn’t button it.” Then she flexed. “And it’s a close thing with the sleeves when I break out the gun show.”

 

“Funny,” He grumbled. “I’m thinking of breaking something right now…”

 


	4. Cat People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two gals working a number.

 

 

 

“I swear to god this is the best number ever.” Shaw announced as she walked into the apartment. She toed her boots off just inside of the door.

 

Root looked up from the couch. She appeared confused. “I didn’t think you got to beat up anyone today?”

 

“No, better,” Shaw grinned. It would be the equivalent of a face-splitting, tooth bearing smile on anyone else. “I got to feed the snow leopards by myself today. They take nearly an entire side of beef each. Primo stuff too.” Their current number required Shaw to pose as a visiting biologist at the Central Park Zoo. Needless to say, she was enjoying the perks that came with this job.

 

Root smiled warmly at her. Shaw was so adorable when she was like this. “Oh that does sound fun.”

 

Shaw disappeared into the kitchen to pour herself a drink. “Seriously, the only way this could get any better is if tomorrow I get to feed the leopards and beat someone up.” When she opened the fridge she decided she might as well make a little snack to go with that drink.

 

“Hope springs eternal. Maybe you can beat someone up and then feed them to the leopards.”

 

“I know you’re making fun of me, but I don’t even care right now.” Root could hear Shaw moving a couple of the grenades over. “Did you remember to buy more roast beef?”

 

“I would never make fun of you.” Shaw stuck her head out of the fridge to glare at her. She rolled her eyes. “Behind the C4.” Shaw disappeared back behind the fridge door. Root heard the crinkling of the wax paper packaging from the deli. She knew exactly what Shaw’s next question would be. “The mustard is in the crisper with the blood bags.”

 

“Why is the mustard in the crisper?”

 

“I had to make room on that shelf for the turkey I bought.”

 

“Why did you buy an entire turkey?”

 

“It was on sale.”

 

“I’m not cooking that thing.”

 

“I’m going to do it,” Root replied as she reached down to scratch Bear between the ears. “I figure you’ll need some comfort food when this number wraps up and you have to say goodbye to your new friends.”

 

“I want potatoes too.”

 

“Of course.” Who made turkey and didn’t have potatoes? Honestly. Sameen was just messing with her now.

 

“And pie.”

 

“If you want pie you’re going to have to make it yourself. You know I can’t make crust worth a damn.”

 

“Ugh, fine.” Shaw closed the refrigerator and began assembling her sandwich at their breakfast bar. Beretta walked into the kitchen. “Hey buddy,” She greeted him. The cat looked up at her and then turned and walked back out of the room.  

 

It wasn’t like him to forgo welcome home pats. And it really wasn’t like him to ignore Shaw when she had any form of food in her hands. Shaw frowned. “What’s with him? He sick or something?” She had major connections now, she could get him anything he needed if that was the case.

 

Root smiled as Beretta hopped up on to the back of the couch to snuggle down just behind her shoulders. “I think he’s jealous you come home smelling like other animals.”

 

“Awe buddy, you know you’re my favorite.”

 

Bear whimpered from his spot at Root’s feet.

 

“Okay, you guys are both right up there. Tied for number one. My favorite faces in the world.”

 

Root cleared her throat.

 

“What? You’re like number three.” Shaw cocked her head to the side in thought. “Top five easy.”

 

Root’s pout deepened into a scowl.

 

Shaw chuckled as she finished making her sandwich. After everything was safely stowed back in the fridge/weapons locker she flopped down on to the sofa next to Root, with it and a glass of scotch. “Any ideas on who is trying to kill Dr. Moore?” The nerd squad had been working through her internet activity with a fine toothed comb.

 

“Not a clue. Her only debt is some student loans she’s nearly payed off. No siblings. Parents live in Colorado. No boyfriends or girlfriends. She lives in a pretty nice neighborhood that’s well within her means. She doesn’t frequent any dating sites or even use much social media. Harry and I can’t find a single red flag.”

 

“I can’t see her being involved in anything shady. Woman’s a giant nerd.” Shaw mumbled around a mouthful of food. She glanced at Root as she chewed and swallowed. “Not that being a nerd stops everyone from getting into trouble.”

 

“I prefer the term genius.”

 

“Nerd.” Shaw took another bite of her sandwich.

 

“Anything at work?”

 

“The interns love her. She spends all of her free time with the cats. So unless one of them has been shopping for hitmen over email…”

 

“We’ve got nothing,” Root finished for her.

 

Shaw figured as much. “This calls for another sandwich.”

 

The next afternoon found Shaw cleaning up part of the behind the scenes areas of the enclosure. One of the leopards had been brought to the back due to a case of the sniffles. He’d hacked up something unmentionable before the doc got him completely sedated. As it was the interns off day, Shaw being low man in the chain of command had pulled clean up duties. 

 

She had just finished hosing everything down when a voice called, “Dr. Greystone, your wife is here.”

 

“My what now?” Shaw looked up to see Root standing beside their number.

 

“Hi, honey.” Root waved at her. “I finished my interview early. Thought we could grab lunch.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Shaw fought not to roll her eyes. “How’d that go?” That is what a normal person would ask right. Instead of strangling their annoying partner for just showing up at their workplace unannounced, and saying ridiculous things like they were married.

 

“Not as well as I’d hoped,” Root replied. “I thought we could run through some ideas as far as what I should do next together?”

 

Shaw glanced over towards the number. “I still have to finish here.”

 

Dr. Moore waved her off, “You’ve already worked through lunch.”

 

She had? Shaw cocked her head to the side. She hadn’t even noticed.

 

“Please, Dr. Greystone I insist.”

 

“What about you?” Shaw knew that the good doctor had to inventory their supplies after treating the big cat. They kept a tight rein on that sort of thing around here. She’d gone into the supply room to do that as soon as Shaw had begun cleaning up. She must have missed lunch too.

 

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

 

“Why don’t you come with us?” Root suggested. “Unless you’re not supposed to leave the area unmanned.”

 

“Oh no,” Dr. Moore shrugged. “I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“You wouldn’t be intruding at all,” Root beamed at her. “I’d love to get to know Jane’s coworkers.”

 

Throughout lunch Root asked Dr. Moore about herself and the city. The questions seemed benign, but Shaw felt a bit of, well, you’d probably call it pride while watching Root at work. Dr. Moore was so charmed by her demeanor that she didn’t even realize she was being interrogated. Perky Psycho was good.

 

Dr. Moore popped the lid back on the remaining portion of her salad after about thirty minutes. “I should be getting back.” She turned to Root, “Lovely to meet you, Margot.”

 

Root smiled, “And you as well.”

 

Shaw quickly swallowed so she could announce, “I’ll be back in a few.” She gestured to the half of a burger and smattering of fries still on her tray. “Just need to finish up a few bites.”

 

“Oh there’s no rush, Dr. Greystone. Spend some time with your wife. She did go to the trouble to visit.”

 

“So much trouble,” Root smirked.

 

Shaw barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as their number smiled and walked away. She threw a packet of ketchup at Root. “And why aren’t we following her?”

 

“Relax,” Root took a sip from her iced tea. “This place is covered with cameras. She’s keeping an eye out.”

 

“We still don’t know for what though,” Shaw grumbled.

 

“That’s why I’m here. I know you said she mostly keeps to her own department but Harry figured I could check out some of the other employees just in case.”

 

“I guess,” Shaw replied as she dipped a few fries into the pool of ketchup on her plate. “There are two interns in our area, but I don’t think either kid could kill a gnat let alone a person.”

 

“What about vet techs, other department heads, tour guides? That hot dog vendor near the entrance seemed sort of shifty.”

 

“We’re kind of scraping the bottom of this barrel huh?”

 

“It’s sort of annoying,” Root agreed with a chuckle. She reached out and ran her thumb over Shaw’s bottom lip. “You had a little ketchup,” She said before sliding her thumb into her mouth.

 

“There are kids around you know?”

 

“What?” Root shrugged. “Can’t a gal help her wife clean up a little?”

 

“If there’s a rule against it, I certainly don’t think it should be followed,” A new voice announced.

 

Shaw looked up to see a gangly guy in a khaki shirt standing beside their table. She vaguely recognized him and his receding hairline from her orientation tour. Oliver something…

 

The man held his hand out to Root, “Dr. Oliver Gati, Head of Herpetology.”

 

Root scrunched up her nose, “Herpes?”

 

He turned a little red. “Uh no, herpetology, the study of reptiles.”

 

“Oh silly me,” Root faked a laugh. “Jane is the scientist in the family.”

 

“Forgive me for saying but, you two don’t look like sisters.”

 

“We’re married,” Shaw took an aggressive bite of her burger.

 

“Oh,” His smile at that news was utterly sleazy. Just great. “That’s wonderful. So how open are you two?”

 

Shaw nearly threw the last few bites of her burger at his head. “Excuse me?”

 

“You know if you’re open to it, the three of us could have some fun?”

 

Root cocked an eyebrow at him, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

 

“Like I said just some fun.” He leaned down placing his palms on to the table top. “What would you ladies say about going for drinks after closing tonight? My treat. I remember Alice saying that Jane was new to the city when she was giving her the tour. I can show you a few hot spots. We can see where the night takes us?” His tone implied exactly where he wanted the night to go.

 

“What part of married don’t you understand?” Shaw practically growled.

 

“Most of it I’d bet.” Root replied. “Don’t you have a wife Ollie?”  

 

He stepped back as if struck. “What ah, makes you say that?”

 

“The tan line on your ring finger for one,” Shaw replied for her. She nodded to something behind the man. “And the pissed off looking woman stomping this way.”

 

Soon a blonde woman about Shaw’s height with a face like a thundercloud, stood next to Dr. Gati. “Oliver! Who is this?” Her voice had a slight accent. Eastern Europe, former Soviet Bloc if Shaw were to guess.

 

“Simone,” He stuttered. “This is my colleague Jane and her wife uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t get your name.”

 

“Because she didn’t give it jackass.” 

 

Dr. Gati frowned but his wife completely missed Shaw’s comment. She was too focused on glaring at her husband. “I thought your meeting was going to run through lunch today.” She held up a brown paper bag. “You left this on the counter this morning. I thought I’d leave it at your desk.”

 

“Oh well the meeting dismissed early.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s so thoughtful of you to bring it in honey. Especially, as I think I’m going to have to stay late tonight.” He shot a quick glance to Root. “Something’s hatching.”

 

“Not on your life,” Shaw mumbled under her breath.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Uh it’s lovely to meet your wife,” Shaw smiled. “Don’t let us keep you.”

 

“Come on Oliver, let your colleague and her wife finish their meal.” Simone grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the table.

 

“I’ll contact you this afternoon about that project Jane,” He called back over his shoulder. Shaw watched as the pair disappeared into the crowd surrounding the food court. His wife glared holes into the side of his head the entire way.

 

“I can see why Dr. Moore hates that guy,” Shaw idly noted when the unhappy pair were finally out of sight.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, took me a minute to put it together when he showed up, but she sort of implied after the staff meeting this morning that he tended to hit on anything that moves. Made some nerd quip about the reptile specialist being all lizard brain.”

 

Root chuckled.

 

Shaw waved a fry at her. “You know if you don’t want me to call you a nerd all the time then you shouldn’t be so amused by nerd humor.”

 

“That’s not why I was laughing,” Root reached out and snatched the fry out of Shaw’s hand. She smiled at her unamused glare and popped it into her mouth. “The number, what if it’s nothing she did?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We’re assuming that Dr. Moore did something that would put her in someone’s crosshairs. What if it’s not about what she’s done but what someone else thinks she did?”

 

Shaw caught on. “Like say a jealous wife assuming she’s hatching something with the lizard guy behind her back?”

 

“I’ll call Harry.”

 

Reese showed up at closing to shadow their number home. Which left Root and Shaw free to break into Dr. Gati’s office. “So what exactly are we looking for here? I mean shouldn’t we be going through his wife’s stuff? Since she’s the one who’s most likely to snap and have a go at Dr. Moore and all.”

 

“Harry is already sifting through her emails. Professor Whistler paid a visit to her psychiatrists’ office this afternoon and blue jacked her phone.” Root breezily replied as she made her way behind Dr. Gati’s desk. She pulled a small bag from the inner pocket of her leather jacket. “Just need to plant a camera in here.”

 

“If she’s seeing a shrink, then I definitely think we’re getting warmer.”

 

“Sameen.” Root’s tone was scolding. “Not everyone who seeks help for their mental issues plots to murder their husband’s mistress.”

 

“Seeing as Dr. Moore isn’t even his mistress…”

 

“But in this case we’re definitely on to something. Harry also got into Dr. Park’s files while he was there for his intake session. It seems Mrs. Gati is seeing him for anger management and abandonment issues. She also has a record for vandalizing an ex’s car five years ago and threatening his current girlfriend.”

 

“So we’re in the psycho double bonus.”

 

“Seems so.” Root sat down behind the desk. She wiggled the mouse, causing the laptop’s screen to come to life. “Now let’s see what our little lizard has been up to.”

 

“Shouldn’t you have done that this afternoon?”

 

“That had been the plan yes,” Root nodded as she typed. Dr. Gati had a presentation on the zoo’s collection of snakes scheduled for the afternoon, leaving his office open for snooping. They had agreed after lunch that Root would go check things out.

 

“Had been?”

 

“The penguin enclosure is on the way to the tropics building.”

 

“No it’s not,” Shaw scowled. “It’s on the opposite side of the grounds.”

 

“It was feeding time.”

 

“And what did you do for the other four hours?”

 

“Well, then there were the owls, and then the sea lions.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Oh look his emails, and wouldn’t you know most of them are from Simone.” Root squinted at the screen. “With increasingly angry subject lines.”

 

“Tell me something Finch doesn’t already know.”

 

Root shook her head. “Alright, browser history here we come.” She made a show of cracking her knuckles.

 

“Again, nerd,” Shaw rolled her eyes at her antics. “See if he has any financial info on there. Maybe he’s been spending some cash on another mistress.” Not that Shaw found the guy all that attractive, but love was blind and stupid sometimes.

 

“You know this isn’t my first time,” Root drawled. “It does look like he has a banking application.” She wiggled the mouse again. “And it’s not for the same bank where his wife keeps the joint accounts.”

 

Shaw walked around the desk to read over Root’s shoulder. “A little exclusionary fund?”

 

“Maybe, looks like he mainly uses it for his bar tabs.” Line after line, charges at bar after bar. Looked like their lizard tried to get pickled practically every night.

 

“Print that.” They could at least go over the addresses, make sure none of them were close to Dr. Moore’s apartment just in case.

 

“Running it now. I’ll clear the history once it’s done.”

 

Shaw went over to the printer and snatched the pages out of the tray. She snagged a highlighter from a coffee cup full of markers and pens as she turned and hopped up to sit down on the low filing cabinet beside the desk. “I guess he wasn’t kidding about the free drinks.”

 

Root glanced over her shoulder at her. “There’s free and then there’s free, Sweetie.”

 

Shaw held up her hands, “Trust me I will never be that hard up for a drink in my life.” She flipped through the pages. And by the looks of things this guy never sprang for the good stuff. Totally not worth it.

 

“Good to know. Oh…”

 

Shaw looked up, “What?”

 

Root scrunched up her nose. “You ever hear that song _The Internet Is for Porn_?”

 

Ultimately, the search of Dr. Feel Not So Good’s computer didn’t turn up much new information. Guy seemed to be a borderline alcoholic and a bit of a perv. Neither of those revelations particularly helped to confirm that the threat against Alice Moore was coming from his wife. Of course they didn’t make the theory any less valid either.

 

Root and Shaw had split up after their office visit. Shaw returning to the apartment to catch some sleep and Root to staking out the Gati residence. The night was quiet. No one approached Dr. Moore. No one left the Gati’s place after Dr. Gati arrived home around two am. Seems like he had found some reason besides drinks with colleagues to avoid his wife.  

 

The next morning found Shaw back at the zoo working with the big cats. The day was quiet as well. The cat who had been ill the day before already seemed much better. Shaw made it a point to speak to each of the interns one on one throughout the day. Those conversations only solidified her belief that neither of them were anything to worry about.

 

Dr. Moore approached Shaw just after lunch. “Dr. Greystone?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I was wondering if you’d be able to stay for a few hours after closing tonight?”

 

“Um yeah, that should be fine.” Shaw shrugged, “Mind if I ask why?”

 

“Excellent,” Dr. Moore smiled. “In all the excitement with our patient yesterday I forgot to tell you. The director wants to run some emergency drills for the staff. I know you’re only a temporary fixture here but I thought the experience would be good for you. Unfortunately, the higher you go in the chain of command the more your job involves things other than the animals.”

 

“That’s fine. Seems kind of weird he’d just suddenly decide to hold drills tonight though.”

 

“Oh Dr. Gati suggested it, and tonight was the only night most of the senior staff didn’t have other plans.”

 

“The lizard guy suggested it?”

 

“Apparently, he’s all about safety.” She pursed her lips, “Which I’ll give you was a surprise to me. But the director agreed it was a good idea so what could I say?”

 

“Not much I guess,” Shaw replied distractedly. Her mind was already on strategies for the evening ahead. Fusco, under protest, was on the day shift watching Gati’s wife. Root would pick up the surveillance just around the time the zoo closed.

 

“Do you need to call your wife?”

 

“What?”

 

“Margot, do you need to call her to tell her you’ll be working late?”

 

“Uh…yeah. Probably a good idea. Excuse me.”

 

Root picked up on the second ring, “Hey, Sweetie. I was just about to call you.”

 

“You guys find something?”

 

“Actually, Lionel lost something.”

 

“Don’t tell me.” Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose.

 

“Simone gave him the slip an hour ago.”

 

“Isn’t he supposed to be a detective?” She hissed, trying to keep her voice low so Dr. Moore wouldn’t overhear her. “How did he lose her?”

 

“Apparently she went out the back. Lionel only realized she was missing when a delivery driver came to the house and she didn’t come to answer the front door.”

 

“So in other words not only is she gone but we don’t even know how big of a head start she has.” Shaw released a breath in an attempt to tamp down her growing aggravation. “Can you track her phone?”

 

“I did a little breaking and entering and discovered that she left her cell phone here at the house.”

 

“So we don’t have a good way to track her?”

 

“The Machine is going through camera feeds. She’ll find her,” Root assured, “But…”

 

“But?”

 

“She may have left her phone, but the gun that’s registered to her husband apparently left the house with her. I found he gun safe but no .45.”

 

Shaw glanced over to Dr. Moore. “This is probably a bad time to tell you…”

 

They hadn’t found Simone Gati by the time the zoo closed. Shaw kept a watchful eye over Dr. Moore while they went through a fire drill, ironically followed by a lock down drill in case of an active shooter situation. Reese was keeping an eye on the house in case Simone came back, while Root was following up a lead from The Machine.

 

It was well after dark by the time Dr. Moore closed the emergency policies and procedures manual and said they could leave. The interns practically ran from the building. Shaw took her time putting away her information packet in her locker and gathering her coat, so that her exit was matched to Dr. Moore’s. They walked side by side through the empty facility.

 

“Ladies,” Oliver Gati called out to them. “Lovely evening isn’t it?”

 

“It would have been lovelier if we hadn’t had to spend it working,” Dr. Moore replied. Shaw smirked.

 

“You know I feel a little guilty since it was my idea.” Yeah right, Shaw mentally scoffed. “How about I take you ladies out for a late dinner to make up for it?”

 

“No thank you.” Dr. Moore kept walking. Shaw in step just beside her.

 

“Oh come on, don’t be so uptight. Drinks?” He continued to push. “Just one little drink? My treat?” If his wife didn’t snap sometime soon Shaw was pretty sure Dr. Moore would have a case for turning him in for creating a hostile workplace.

 

Harold’s voice suddenly rang through Shaw’s earpiece. “Ms. Shaw can you hear me?”

 

Shaw paused for a second, “Yeah what’s…”

 

“The Machine tracked Mrs. Gati to the park. Ms. Groves is following. But you must stay close to the number until Ms. Groves can subdue her.”

 

Some movement next to one of the enclosures caught Shaw’s eye. “Tell Root to hurry up. Gotta go.”

 

Shaw tackled Dr. Moore to the ground and rolled them both behind a large garbage can just as a shot rang out. Another bullet scored the sidewalk a few inches from Shaw’s face. “I don’t remember that being in the manual,” Dr. Moore whimpered.

 

“It wasn’t. You guys need to update your procedures.” She slowly pulled her body into a crouch and peered around the can as she drew her gun from where she had been concealing it in the back of her pants.

 

“Ms. Shaw were those gunshots?”

 

“Can’t talk now, Finch.”

 

Dr. Gati was standing almost exactly where Shaw had last seen him. The only difference was he was now holding his hands up. “Simone, what are you doing?”

 

She was pointing a gun at his chest. “I knew you were here with these women. Once a cheater always a cheater.” The way they were positioned, Shaw couldn’t get off a good shot without running the risk of hitting Dr. Gati.

 

“That was one-time, Honey. I apologized.”

 

“You apologized but you didn’t stop with her.” She shook her head back and forth. “All the late nights and early mornings, the missed lunches and dinners.”

 

“You’re making a mistake, Simone,” A new voice added.

 

“And you’re a little late,” Shaw grumbled.

 

“There was traffic, Sweetie.”

 

“Here to see your wife?” Simone sneered as Root stepped into the light, her own gun drawn. “Or are you in on it too?”

 

Root shook her head. “Ollie’s not my type.”

 

“You can’t fool me, he’s everyone’s type.”

 

For the love of…this woman was completely gone. Bellvue, party of one. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. “Not anyone with a modicum of self-esteem.”

 

“No,” Simone shook her head. “You can’t trick me.”

 

“No one is trying to trick you.”

 

“Except for your cheating scumbag husband.”

 

“Except for him,” Root nodded. “Trust me, Simone. He’s not worth it and I’m a much better shot than you are. Put the gun down and walk away.”

 

“Like he’ll walk away?” She shook her head. “Like he’ll walk away to her.” She pointed the gun at Dr. Moore.

 

Shaw stood up with a huff. She tucked her gun back into the holster in the back of her pants and held up her hands. “Seriously, she didn’t do a damn thing. I’ve been here for over a week and Alice hasn’t so much as blinked at him.”

 

“You’re lying. You all want to take him from me.” The gun shook in Simone’s hand. Her eyes locked on her husband’s face.

 

“Lady, seriously, you can keep him,” Shaw crossed her arms over her chest. “But if you really want to kill someone, I say stick with the hubby for not being able to keep it in his pants.”

 

“Ms. Shaw what are you doing?” Finch asked, sounding panicked.

 

“Not that Ollie, olly olly oxen freed it on anyone around here…” Root added, understanding exactly what Shaw was up to. “Though judging by his browser history he thought about it enough to warrant some damage. Might I suggest going for his kneecaps first?”

 

“Please, Simone. I love you,” Dr. Gati pleaded. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

 

Shaw moved even closer to Simone. She was so focused on her husband that she didn’t pick up on what was happening. “Or his left hand. Pretty sure he’s been cheating on you for sure with that.”

 

Shaw heard Finch pointedly clear his throat over the comms. She rolled her eyes. In a flash, she darted forward and twisted Simone’s wrist. The gun safely pointed away from everyone else, Shaw applied a bit of leverage, increased the pressure of her grip just so, and bingo, the gun fell into her hand.

 

Simone gaped at her as she held her aching wrist. “Or divorce him like a normal person when you get out of jail, whatever.”

 


	5. Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root is a true fangirl, or don’t binge watch with your brain on drugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is mostly set between chapters 7 & 8 of 12 Days. Brief refresher: Root got hit by a car on a mission and messed up her leg.   
> Another note while I say the majority of season 5 need not apply to this universe, 6741 is real. It is real because that episode was too damn good not to keep it in my head canon, while fixing/ignoring everything else. So since I was never overly specific as to what Samaritan did to Shaw, I can make 6741 fit.

 

 

“Did you check the dosages this time?” Shaw asked as she took the bag with Bear’s medication out of Root’s hand. Poor guy had a bit of a respiratory infection. Finch had been the one to take him to the vet initially but Reese had needed him to help with his number so Root and Shaw had been called in to wrap things up from his appointment.

 

“I always check the dosages,” Root replied as she buckled her seatbelt.

 

“Uh that’s a load of crap and you know it.”

 

“It was one time. Don’t be so dramatic, Sweetie.”

 

“Me?” Shaw glared at her. “I’m the dramatic one? Uh who was going to hobble, and castrate a dude for killing off her favorite TV character the last time she was on painkillers?”

 

“That wasn’t entirely my fault,” Root held up her hand. “And I still think he deserved a light hobbling...”

 

**10 Months Ago**

 

“Hey,” Shaw called out as she stumbled through the door to the apartment. Her head was on a swivel, checking the room for any immediate threats. “The Machine sent me a text telling me to come back here A.S.A.P.”

 

Root blinked at her over her laptop screen. “She did?”

 

“Yeah, is something wrong? You look weird.” Root’s eyes were a little puffy and she was paler than normal. “Did something happen at your doctor’s appointment?” Shaw had wanted to go with her, as they were moving Root to a lighter cast on her injured leg, and she wanted to make sure the teenager that was posing as an orthopedic surgeon did the job correctly. However, their current number was currently participating in an all-women’s retreat and with Root still out of commission, she was the only option for coverage.

 

Reese had to drive Root to her appointment instead. He hadn’t told Shaw anything had been amiss when she’d called him to check in while skipping unity circle time. There were some things she just wasn’t willing to do for this job.

 

“It was fine. The doctor even gave me a lollipop because I was such a good patient.”

 

“That better not be a euphemism.”

 

“Sam,” Root rolled her eyes at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“Well if everything is good with your leg, then why did Skynet send out the S.O.S?” The only reason she got to leave just now is that The Machine had sent Fusco in with a bogus warrant for their number. She of course had protested, but he had insisted that she had to go down to the station. That little case of ‘mistaken identity’ would probably take all night to resolve itself leaving their number in protective custody for now.

 

And Shaw free to do…well she wasn’t totally sure what she was doing here exactly.

 

She walked around to the side of Root’s chair. She had a bunch of tabs open on her screen. It almost looked like she was prepping a dossier on someone. "What is all this for?  Are you doing research for a new number, is that why she sent for me?"

 

"Not exactly."

 

"What does not exactly mean?"

 

Root tapped a photo in the upper right hand corner of the screen. Standard average white guy. No outstanding features. Most people probably wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a lineup five minutes after seeing him. Shaw had seen toast with an edgier look. "This man is a mission but it's not from Her."

 

Who else would a mission be from? “I didn’t think you freelanced anymore.”

 

“Oh I’d do this one for free,” Root sneered. “But this is a personal mission.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“Our target is Braxton Mills, television writer, producer and all around misogynistic ass hat.”

 

“I’m sorry but did you just say ass hat?”

 

Root kept on talking as if Shaw hadn’t said a thing. “Mills is responsible for the murder of Sergeant Melinda Chase.”

 

“He killed someone? And his number didn’t come up?”

 

Root nodded, “He didn’t pull the trigger, but it was his fault. The ultimate responsibility for her death was all on him.”

 

“Is there any proof that he’s the one behind it, that we can use? When and where did this happen?” Maybe she should call Lionel, see if there was a case open. Or since Root addressed the vic as Sergeant maybe military police had handled the case.

 

“Well, I only discovered this story recently, so this actually happened three months ago,” Root began to explain. “Apparently, he thought it would build momentum going into sweeps.”

 

Of course, sweeps. “Wait. What?”

 

“Nothing like a little murder to keep viewers tuning in.”

 

“Tuning in? Like a TV show? This guy killed someone on live TV?” There’s no way that wouldn’t have been all over the news.

 

Root nodded emphatically. “Assassins from the Vaporion Empire shot her right before the final commercial break.”

 

Vapori-what the fuck? Root had finally lost what was left of her right mind. “Just so we’re clear, you want to go after this guy because of a TV show?”

 

“Yes,” Root replied as if Shaw was the one saying crazier than normal shit right now.

 

“A fictional television show?”

 

“Yes, Sameen.” Root scrunched up her face, “Are you feeling alright? You seem to be having some trouble hearing me.”

 

“If it pissed you off this much, why don’t you just stop watching the show?”

 

“Oh I intend to.” She stopped talking and tilted her head to the side. “After I destroy him.”

 

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes. Took three deep breaths. Tried to find her Zen. When she opened her eyes again this whole thing still didn’t make a damn bit of sense. “Root you gotta break this down for me because you’re being crazier than usual and I don’t know what you want here.”

 

“To destroy him.” Root enunciated slowly as if she were speaking to a particularly dim child. “Utterly and completely destroy him.”

 

“You do realize that you sound like that creepy little shit Samaritan had interfacing for him right now?”

 

Root blinked up at her, “Gabriel?”

 

“Is there another creepy little shit I didn’t know about?”

 

“I don’t think so.” Root cocked her head to the side. “She says no.”

 

Small favors. “Alright then, back to the TV guy.”

 

“I’ve been researching him most of the afternoon,” Root informed her. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I’ll obviously need someone to do the leg work.”

 

Shaw crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think that’s why your other girlfriend called me.”

 

“Wait she called you?”

 

“Yeah, Root,” Shaw replied. “I told you that when I came in.” She leaned forward to check Root’s eyes. Her pupils were dilated. Maybe there was a logical explanation for at least part of this. “Did they give you a new scrip at the doctor’s office?”

 

She nodded, “Yeah, they said something about something for the swelling and also something about switching the dosage on my pain meds, to start to ween me off of them.” She shook her head, “That’s not important right now, Sweetie.”

 

“Oh I beg to differ.” Shaw walked over to the breakfast bar where Root’s prescription bottles stood in a neat little row. She quickly checked the labels. “Have you been having any trouble breathing? Felt itchy, dizzy, or nauseous?”

 

“No,” Root idly replied. “Mainly I’ve been pissed off.” Shaw saw her throwing her hands up in the air out of the corner of her eye. “It was just so wrong.”

 

Shaw discovered the problem on the label of her third bottle. “These idiots upped your dosage instead of lowering it!” She shook her head. “Can’t Skynet be bothered to look out for this sort of thing?”

 

“Harry has been doing some maintenance to a few of her background functions this week. She may have missed something because of it.”

 

“No, you think?” Hope no pharmacists where planning on murdering anyone on purpose any time soon.

 

Root waved her off. “I’m sure she called you as soon as she figured it out. But that’s not important, Sam.” She gestured back to the screen, “Teaching this miserable asshole a lesson? Now, that is vital.”

 

She began typing again. “I bet he got turned down by all the girls in school. Once he got a show, he was probably all ‘I’ll show you Brenda, all the women shall be miserable or forced to date idiots.’ Well, not today Braxton.”

 

“Root, we need to get this fixed.” She kept on typing and muttering to herself, ignoring anything that wasn’t on the screen.

 

Shaw let out a frustrated breath. She just had to manage Root’s crazy until the drugs wore off. As long as Root didn’t take any more of the pills in this bottle she should come down from this little episode okay, but they’d need to get Root the correct dosage on her replacement meds. And a new pharmacy. One that wasn’t run by idiots.

 

Shaw’s cell phone began to vibrate. She stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her to check it.

 

_I’ve contacted Dr. Albertson for a replacement prescription. Will have new medications delivered tonight._

 

“Okay, but she’s still ranting about someone named Brenda and plotting this TV idiot’s demise.” Not that Shaw didn’t think the guy had probably earned at least a light slamming or something. She just didn’t think he had earned anything like what Root was planning. Someone had to fuck up far worse than screwing up a TV show to warrant any action that could cause the old all life is sacred rant from Harold.

 

Not that Root was able to make that sort of distinction right now.

 

_Have quarantined all outgoing messages from her phone and computer. Talk. Help her_.

 

“You want me to talk her down? Me?” Shaw had been thinking more along the lines of locking her in the bedroom away from all her electronics until this stuff wore off.

 

_Yes._

 

“You realize I’m just as likely to knock her out?” Now there was a plan.

 

_You won’t._

 

“Ugh fine,” Shaw spat. “Order me a pizza while you’re at it.” All they’d had at the retreat was rabbit food. Who could live off of beets, sprouts, and kale smoothies? Honestly. The first step to enlightenment wasn’t meditation, it was eating some freaking protein.

 

_Double your usual order plus breadsticks. Will arrive in thirty minutes or less._

 

“Add wings.”

 

_Fine. Go. Help her._

 

“You’re pushy for a glorified Xbox, you know that right?”

 

_I prefer the PS3._

 

“Of course you do.” Shaw shook her head and put the phone away.

 

Root smiled at her as she walked into the living area. “So I’ve already accessed his schedule. He’s supposed to make an appearance at a fan convention in North Carolina this weekend. We can intercept him en route to the airport.” She quirked her lips. “Maybe stash him in an empty vacation rental upstate. We’ll need to pick up some supplies beforehand. Or could we hit a hardware store on the way out of town?”

 

Shaw eased the laptop out of Root’s hands and away from her. She tried to snatch it back. “No, Sam. I need to order a sledgehammer and some garden shears online.”

 

"Okay, Kathy Bates just simmer down." Once she made sure the computer was resting somewhere stable and out of the way, Shaw sat down on the end of the coffee table in front of Root. “I hate bad TV as much as the next girl, but I’m pretty sure Finch and your robot overlord would both disapprove of kidnapping and maiming a dude just because of a terrible story.”

 

“It’s not just that it’s a bad story. It’s a bad story that killed off their best character.” She scowled. “It’s a bad story that killed off their best character in front of the love of her life in the worst, most clichéd, stupid way and he needs to pay for it.”

 

“Okay, but…”

 

“No but,” Root shook her head. “She said she loved her and then boom! She was just gone. It wasn’t fair.”

 

“Root…”

 

“You can’t do that. You can’t just kiss someone and then go off and die right in front of them.”

 

Oh.

 

Crap.

 

The Machine couldn’t have given her a little heads up on that portion of our program? Shaw clenched her jaw. It may have helped a tiny bit to know that Root had basically watched a carbon copy of what went down at the stock exchange while tripping on some serious painkillers.

 

“Alright Root, I think I know what’s going on here.”

 

“Then you understand why he needs to pay.”

 

“Look, I’m sure the guy is a real, how did you put it? Ass hat.” She smirked. “And you know if you want to hack his bank accounts and spend all his cash on jello, or make his editopedia article list him as being a lichen fetishist, or make every electronic device he touches immediately Rickroll him, I will fully support you.”

 

“You’re thinking too small.”

 

“And you are thinking with your brain on some pretty strong drugs.” That egg was smashed, scrambled and then fried.

 

“You don’t understand.”

 

“You’re right I don’t,” Shaw agreed. Not completely anyway. “But I don’t think all of this is about a TV show either.”

 

“You’re right, it is about the continuing bias the media has toward women who love women.”

 

“Okay, probably some of that,” Shaw held up a hand before Root could continue. That really was some bull shit. At the moment, not the point, but bull shit indeed. “Do you think that maybe a little of this has to do with the fact that the show triggered some bad memories for you?”

 

Root blinked at her. “Because of the kissing and the dying?”

 

“Because of that.” Shaw’s problem may be that she didn’t feel enough, but Root’s was that she felt so much. Even with Shaw being back for months, working beside her, sleeping beside her, Root still carried a lot of guilt and pain around tied back to that day at the Stock Exchange.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yep.”                                                                                                                                          

 

Root’s angry glare melted into a pout. “Can I still maim him a little?”

 

“Probably not a good plan,” Shaw smirked. It was possibly wrong that she found Root kinda cute when she was in Murderous Eeyore mode. “But I do have an idea.”

 

“Better than cutting off the misogynistic asshole’s balls?”

 

Seeing as Root didn’t even like balls? Yeah, most likely. "Have The Machine fix it."

 

Root blinked at her again, "What?"

 

"It can run simulations, right? Having lived through a few thousand copies of Samaritan's version, I can tell you the damn things seem pretty real. So have her run a simulation that ends up the way you want it."

 

"Are you suggesting I ask god to write fan fiction for me?" All the tension seemed to leave Root as she considered the possibilities.

 

Shaw shrugged, "If it keeps you from being crazier than normal, yes." She leaned forward and gave Root’s good leg a gentle pat. "And why am I not surprised that you know that term?"

 

"The internet was my stock and trade for a great many years, Sweetie."

 

"And you're a romantic sap, that's constantly looking for her fix." It was no secret to Shaw that Root was a sucker for happy endings. Novels, movies, if it had a stupidly cliché and sappy love story in it, Root would snap it up like Shaw with a bag of chips.

 

"And that."

 

"So just program in your parameters and let your friendly, neighborhood ASI fix things for you."

 

Root looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “You really think she’d do that?”

 

“If it keeps you from creating a number with your drug-fueled schemes, then yeah.” Shaw shook her head. “You’re sort of hard to say no to.”

 

She sniffed, “You’ve done it often enough.”

 

“Yeah, well I have exceptional restraint.” Shaw shook her head, “And you wore me down anyway when it came to the big stuff.”

 

Root smiled, “That I did.”

 

“You just kept bugging me. It was either make out with you or strangle you.”

 

“And now you get to do both.” Root shook her head, "Did anyone ever tell you that you're pretty smart?"

 

"Only the recruiters from every med school I was accepted to. And the Marines. My trainers in the ISA. I think Control may have even thought it once. I’m clearly gifted and everyone knows it. Jeez, Nerd keep up."

 


	6. Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending a night in. Does that actress remind you of anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typically I do my final edit/review of these shorts right before I post. I did that tonight but that episode of Supergirl just happened so I don't know how much true concentration I had to give to it so if there are typos I apologize and I'll check this again when my brain comes back.

 

“Sam?” Root called out as she stepped into the apartment. “Are you here?” She smiled as she caught sight of Shaw sprawled across the sofa. Bear was sleeping stretched across the floor in front of it and Beretta curled up across Shaw’s thighs.

 

“How’d your number go?” Shaw asked as she carefully sat up so as not to disturb the cat. They had been on separate assignments that day. Both irrelevant fortunately.

 

“The butler literally did it,” Root smirked while she hung up her jacket. “It couldn’t have been more cliché if I had scripted it.” She stood on one leg to pull off her left boot. “Yours?”

 

“Ex-husband was the perp. He was going to take the kid after the party. I busted his ass before they cut the birthday cake. Lionel got stuck in the inflatable bounce house though.”

 

“How did he manage that?” And did anyone get it on camera?

 

“The kids trapped him in there. They thought he was one of those scary clowns that have been on the news lately.” Shaw chuckled at the memory. “I think one of them had recently discovered _It_ and was egging the others on.”

 

“Oh I hate that movie.” Root pulled off her other boot and sauntered over to the couch. Shaw lifted her legs so she could sit down on the opposite end. As soon as she was settled, Beretta stood up to say hello. “Why don’t you greet me with this much affection, Sam?” She teased as Beretta kept head-butting her chin.

 

“Because I don’t spend seventy-five percent of my day licking myself in the corner.”

 

“Now that’s a picture.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes as she stood up. “I’m getting a drink. Want something?”

 

“Water,” Root answered. “She told me you haven’t had dinner yet so I called in our usual to the Thai place down the block on my way in. Should be here in twenty.”

 

“Nice.”

 

Before Root could say anything else she was distracted by a noise coming from the TV. “What are you watching?” Some type of lizard creature had just crashed through the side of a building.

 

“Dunno,” Shaw’s voice drifted in from where she was leaning into the open fridge. “Some monsters smashing an entire city thing. It’s in Korean.”

 

The Machine helpfully supplied Root with all the pertinent details. It didn’t sound like her cup of tea to say the least. “Why are you watching this?”

 

“Keeps my language skills sharp. Also seeing the big thing smashing into all those buildings is funny.” Shaw popped back into view. She had a brown bottle in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. She set the water bottle on the counter. Then she knocked the brown bottle against the edge of it to pop off the bottle cap. “Cole used to watch those old school Godzilla ones in the surveillance van sometimes. You know with the guy in the rubber suit and the out of whack voiceovers?”

 

“I think I’ve seen one or two.”

 

Shaw handed her the bottle of water. “Those just kept getting more and more random.” She flopped back down on to the sofa. “Godzilla literally fought a pile of garbage in one.”

 

“A sobering allegory on protecting the environment I’m sure.”

 

“Nerd!” Shaw coughed. “The special effects in this one are top notch but it’s not as much fun.” She took a long pull from her beer. “We don’t have to watch the rest of it. It’s almost over anyway.”

 

Thank god. Root smiled. She picked the remote up off of the coffee table and began rapidly shifting through the channels. News, news, something about Jesus, golf. She didn’t know they had that channel. Cop show, cop show, cop show in Hawaii… “Oh the Great Pumpkin.”

 

Shaw looked up at the screen to see Charlie Brown dancing around because he had received an invitation to a Halloween party. “I haven’t watched this since I was a kid.”

 

“Do you mind?” Root actually held some affection for the old cartoon. It had been one of Hanna’s favorites. She hadn’t watched it in a few years, always far too busy with work to actually sit down and watch TV. She thought it would be sort of nice to share the memory with Sameen now though.

 

“Nah,” Shaw shrugged as she took another drink. She could tell by the look in the other woman’s eyes that Root really wanted to watch it. “May as well get into the holiday spirit and all.”

 

They watched in silence for a little while. Sipping on their drinks, the show’s audio accented by the occasional clink of Shaw’s bottle as she set it on the coffee table and picked it up again. Beretta moved between them seeking out attention. It was…nice.

 

"What kind of asshole gives kids rocks?” Shaw exclaimed pointing at the screen. “They'd get it back through their window if that had been me."

 

Root turned to smile at her. "Did little Sameen do much trick or treating?"

 

"Hell yes. People just give you free candy, as much as you can carry. What's not to like?" One memorable Halloween she filled up five pillowcases all by herself. She’d had candy all the way until New Years. Best Halloween ever.

 

She didn’t realize she had been smiling until Root remarked, “You really like Halloween.”

 

“I mean yeah as much as I can like anything. I guess.” Shaw picked up her beer bottle again. “It’s the one holiday people aren’t overly sappy with. There’s no expectations to feel this way or that. You’re just supposed to have fun.”

 

Root nodded. She hadn’t given it much thought, but now that she was, she could see how other holidays might make Shaw feel her differences to those around her growing up more acutely. “What did you like most about it?”

 

“Different things,” Shaw shrugged. “There was planning out the best route for candy when I was a kid. Then ya know when you get older, it’s about the costumes,” She gave Root a side eye. “We all know you enjoy that bit.”

 

Root chuckled. “And we all know you appreciate me in them.” She licked her lips, “And taking me out of them.”

 

“Didn’t think that was in dispute,” Shaw took another sip from her beer. “Which leads me to my next point, the parties. Halloween parties were always a good place to catch a hook up.”

 

“I don’t know how I feel about that side road on memory lane.”

 

Shaw shook her head. “What about you then?”

 

“I…well, no one really wants to hook up with the weird nerd, Halloween or no.” Root tried not to frown as she looked away. That tiny move made Shaw want to hop a jet to Texas and punch a lot of somebodies. Mainly because of everything that little aside of Root’s left unsaid. She took another drink. Kids could be such vicious little shits.

 

“I did like the costumes.” Root kept her eyes on the screen. “And I did bob for apples once.” She cocked her head to the side. “That’s kind of gross when you think about it as an adult though. Not like there’s a beagle in most situations, but after the first try the water’s all basically backwash.”

 

“Originally it was some weird dating superstition in England,” Shaw explained, thinking a slight change of subject was in order. “Every apple represented a dude and if a girl got a guy’s apple on the first bob they were apparently meant to be.”

 

“People are so weird,” Root drawled.

 

“Yeah okay,” Shaw snorted. Says the chick that hears voices and worships an overgrown speak and spell. But in the interest of a quiet evening, she was just going to let that one go. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that, what with your weird thing with apples.”

 

“I like apples what’s weird about that?”

 

“The fact that you’d pick one over a burger for starters.”

 

“If you’re talking about yesterday, it’s just that I don’t like heavy lunches. Makes me sleepy all afternoon. I couldn’t run the risk of falling asleep while I was in the car with John. He’d never let me live that down.”

 

By the time the cartoon ended, the delivery boy had arrived with their dinner. They continued to tease each other good naturedly as they ate their food. Periodically they each had to fend off Beretta, who was on a mission to sneak some tasty morsels when they weren’t looking. It was fairly late when they finished, but neither felt tired.

 

“You know what we need?” Shaw asked as she stood and stretched.

 

“Some type of baby seat to hold Beretta in one place so we can eat in the living room in peace?”

 

“No,” Shaw frowned. “Don’t be weird.”

 

“I miss meals that weren’t giant games of keep away, some people would call that normal.”

 

“Popcorn.”

 

Root raised an eyebrow. “Popcorn? We need popcorn?”

 

“Yep,” Shaw nodded. “And I think we have some in the pantry behind the spare gun cleaning kit.”

 

“You’re really going to eat popcorn now?” Root couldn’t even conceive of taking another bite, and Shaw, as usual, had eaten twice as much as she had. She honestly did not know where she put it all. The Machine had tried to calculate Shaw’s average caloric consumption versus her average daily activity and the results were still inconclusive as to why Shaw could still run instead of rolling everywhere.

 

“It’s kettle corn. It’s the dessert of popcorns.”

 

“Whatever you say, Sweetie.”

 

“You have to have popcorn with a horror movie.”

 

She tilted her head in confusion. “Who says we’re going to be watching one?”

 

Shaw shrugged. “It’s October. There’s bound to be one on.” Most likely several. “It could be like a theme for the evening or whatever.”

 

“You want our night to have a theme?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Forget it.”

 

“No, no,” Root cried out. “If my girl wants a theme then my girl shall have a theme.”

 

“This is one of those instances of you not helping yourself by continuing to run your mouth.”

 

“Would it help my case if I offered to run my mouth wherever you’d like on your body after our movie?”

 

Shaw smirked. “I’ll make a list while the popcorn’s popping.”

 

“Oh goodie!” Shaw heard a mismatch of audio as Root flipped through the channels. She placed her bag of popcorn into the microwave and set the timer. “Though I have to ask,” Root began.

 

Shaw came to stand between the kitchen and the living area, “What?”

 

“Well, what are your intentions? You don’t get scared.”

 

“Yeah so?”

 

“Typically, when people in romantic parings are spending an evening with popcorn and horror movies the guy is looking for the girl to get scared so he can have an excuse to get some over the clothes action.” Root waggled her eyebrows.

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“I don’t make the rules, Sweetie.”

 

“Okay first of all,” Shaw held up a finger. “There is no guy here.”

 

Root raised her bottle of water aloft in a toast, “Thank god.”

 

“You are such a nerd.”

 

“I thought I was an idiot?”

 

“An idiot and a nerd.”

 

“I think that’s an oxymoron, Sam.”

 

“You are just proving my point.” She turned to check on her snack.

 

“What was the second thing?”

 

“I don’t need an excuse for any sort of action when it comes to you.” Shaw opened the microwave and emptied the now puffed up bag of popcorn into a bowl.

 

“Well, that is true.” Root licked her lips, “Are you sure you want to watch a movie?”

 

Shaw walked out of the kitchen balancing the bowl of popcorn in one hand. She had another beer, and a new bottle of water for Root in the other. “Thirdly, the kills are sort of fun to dissect. You know what’s actually possible and not. Figuring out if you can spot any body doubles or prosthetics.”

 

“Like counting the bullets fired in an action movie?” Root smiled.

 

“Exactly, they never freaking reload.” Shaw crunched a few kernels as she sat down. “And suddenly every gun is an automatic.”

 

“Gives magic bullets an entirely new definition,” Root quipped. “Though not nearly as fun.” She began changing the channels again.

 

"Stop."

 

Root took her thumb off of the remote. "Really?"

 

"What?" Shaw mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn.

 

She turned to look at her. "You didn’t strike me as a teens in peril sort of gal."

 

Shaw snorted. "Those guys are way too old to be playing teens.”

 

“That’s typically the case,” Root agreed.

 

“I mean that one is a superhero and Mr. Pretty Eyes is on some doctor show. They’re not fooling anyone.”

 

“Maybe they’re supposed to be in college?” She wasn’t really sure having never seen the film. 

 

“That hippie stoner guy has socks old enough to be in college I’d bet.”

 

Shaw smirked as the scene on the screen switched from the inside of a cabin to a lab of some kind, "The actors in this one are sort of hot though."

 

Root whipped her head around to look at the screen. Her eyes narrowed. "Please tell me you're joking."

 

"Not that one," Shaw scoffed. "Damn, Root I do have some standards."

 

"You said hot actors and he was on the screen."

 

"No,” Shaw shook her head. "I said hot actors," She pointed, "And she was on the screen. The lab nerd chick is sexy."

 

Root tilted her head to the side, “I suppose I can see the appeal.”

 

“The appeal being that lab coat is really working for her?” Shaw was uncharacteristically enthusiastic about it.

 

“I’ve worn lab coats lots of times.” She was pretty sure there was one on the floor of their closet right now in fact.

 

“Uh huh,” Shaw idly muttered as she scooped up another handful of popcorn. Her eyes remained locked on the screen. “How does she get her hair so shiny? You think she’s one of those celebrities that does random shampoo commercials in Japan or something?”

 

“It’s not that great.” The woman on screen’s hair didn’t have nearly the volume that Root’s did. Or the bounce. No, not that great at all. Certainly not shampoo commercial great.

 

“I don’t know, they like sci-fi actors over there. Wasn’t she on some vampire show?”

 

“She wasn’t the lead or anything.”

 

“If I remember she was pretty good in it.” Shaw crunched loudly on her mouthful of popcorn, “They should give her a show.”

 

“Because her hair is so shiny?” She paused the TV so they could all stare at the shiny hair. “Oh what a scintillating hour of programing that would be. They’d probably make her some floppy haired idiot’s girlfriend or something.”

 

“Alright,” Shaw poked Root in the thigh with her toes. “What bug crawled up your ass?”

 

“Hopefully one that gives me shiny hair,” Root huffed.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Shaw groaned. She tossed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “You know you’re gorgeous.”

 

Root didn’t say anything.

 

“Are you seriously pouting right now? I have to hear about how sexy mother boards are on the regular, but you get mad if I say an actress is hot?”

 

“I’m not trying to sleep with the mother boards.”

 

Shaw paused with her hand halfway submerged into the bowl of popcorn. “Really, because for the longest time I was pretty sure you’d hump The Machine if you could only find her main servers.”

 

Root glared at her. Shaw got the distinct impression there wasn’t going to be much humping in either of their futures if she didn’t get her to calm down. She set the bowl of popcorn on the floor and slowly sat up. “You know why I really think that actress is so hot?”

 

“I think I got the gist of it already,” Root huffed, “Lab coats and shiny hair. Unless you’d like to wax poetic about her nose next?”

 

Shaw opened her mouth to reply and then closed it. She shook her head, “Okay, that’s a random body part to focus on.”

 

Root shrugged. The woman had a nice nose. She was gracious enough to admit that.

 

“I think she’s hot because she sort of looks like you.”

 

Root cocked her head to the side. She didn’t see it.

 

Shaw could tell. “Big brown eyes. Smart ass smirk. Great hair.” She licked her lips. “She doesn’t fill out the lab coat as well as you do though. She needs to do some curls or something, chick’s got noodle arms…”

 

Root snorted.

 

“Look at those things. Woman aint got no muscles.”

 

Root’s face finally broke out into a grin. “She probably doesn’t have to hold up semi-automatics, while still looking like a bad ass, as often as I do.”

 

“Because the important part is looking like a bad ass.”

 

“The most important,” Root nodded. “I guess she really can’t compete.”

 

“That’s what happens when you always play the girlfriend or evil lab tech number three.”

 

“Good thing her hair is so shiny,” Root laughed.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Root leaned across the cushions to nip at Shaw’s neck. “How about we forget the movie," She whispered, "And you can check out my muscles up close and personal?” She stood up and began unbuttoning her shirt.

 

“Let me just dump the rest of this popcorn so the boys don’t get into it.” Shaw scrambled to get up off the couch without tripping over the dog or the cat prowling around it. “Don’t start without me.”

  
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sweetie. I’ve got big plans.” Root started down the hallway.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Uh huh,” Root turned to smirk at her. “Or you could tell me more about how hot I am, Sameen.”

 

Wait a minute. Shaw scowled. Had Root just? The smirk on the woman’s face practically confirmed it. She had been played. “You know since you obviously think about it so much,” Root added. Shaw threw the bowl of popcorn at her.

 

 


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's in the box?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway through. Everyone still having fun?

 

It was a plain, brown cardboard box. On first glance completely unassuming. However, the longer Reese was in the subway, the stranger it began to appear.

 

The box stood about three feet high. Not very wide. There were no postal marking or stamps on it. No product or manufacturers label to tip him off as to its contents.

 

He walked around in a slow circle, studying it from every angle. No one else was in the subway when he got here except Bear so there wasn’t anyone he could ask about it. He considered pulling out the knife he kept on his belt and slitting open the tape holding the thing closed.

 

“What’s in the box?” A voice interrupted his musings.

 

“That’s what I was trying to figure out Lionel.”

 

The detective finished descending the stairs and came to stand beside him. “Is there a reason you haven’t just opened it already?”

 

“Respect for my colleague’s privacy?”

 

“Your colleagues that use an all seeing eye to spy on everyone? Those people’s privacy?”

 

“It’s also taped closed.”

 

Fusco chuckled. “Now see that makes more sense.”

 

“Yeah,” Reese shook his head. “But I’m sure we both have better things to do today. What brings you by, Lionel?” As far as he knew the detective wasn’t working a number currently.

 

“Glasses told me the Magic 8 Ball had some footage that would help me on one of my cases. Said I should stop by around lunch.” Fusco looked over at Finch’s desk. “I was assuming lunch time by our Earth definition.”

 

Reese glanced at his watch. 12:20. “Maybe Finch ran into traffic.”

 

“Or he’s off saving some other hopeless case.”

 

“You never have to thanks us for that, Lionel,” Reese deadpanned. Bear looked up at him from his bed and huffed in agreement.

 

“You’re freaking hilarious.” Fusco stepped around him to stare at the box. “Maybe Glasses got some new computer equipment or something?”

 

He had considered but ultimately dismissed that theory. “That stuff doesn’t typically come in boxes like that.”

 

“Because everything he gets is always oh so typical.” Fusco shook his head. “Whatever it is probably fell off a truck somewhere.”

 

“If that’s the case then it definitely isn’t any of Finch’s equipment.”

 

“Oh don’t act like he’s never had any of you nut bars steal any equipment for his electric Ouija board.”

 

That wasn’t what Reese was saying at all. Most of the equipment down here was probably stolen from somewhere, or in the very least fraudulently acquired. They couldn’t afford to leave any paper trails back when Samaritan was hunting them. “He’d never risk anything important getting broken.”

 

“You do know fell off a truck is just an expression?”

 

The sound of the vending machine opening at the top of the stairs echoed down to them. The sound of shuffling footsteps followed. Reese and Fusco looked at each other with matching grins. Hello answers.

 

Soon Harold Finch came into view. “Do I wish to know why you gentlemen are just lurking at the bottom of the stairs?”

 

“Hello to you too, Glasses.”

 

“My apologies, Detective,” Finch deadpanned. “Good afternoon. What are you up to?”

 

“Finch do you want us to help you put this box anywhere?”

 

“What box?”

 

Fusco stepped to the side. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, “This one.”

 

“Oh dear,” Finch frowned as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I asked Ms. Shaw not to leave that there.”

 

“It’s Shaw’s?”

 

“Yes,” Finch nodded. He stepped around Fusco and made his way over to his desk. “She had it with her when she came to drop off Bear this morning.” The dog stood up with a happy little yip at the sound of his name.

 

“She uh happen to say what it was?”

 

“No and I didn’t ask.” Finch set his briefcase down to give Bear a pat on his head. “It’s none of my concern.”

 

“But what if it’s dangerous?”

 

“I highly doubt the contents of that box are any more hazardous than the pile of C4 in the weapons locker. Or the grenades Ms. Groves has stashed in that cubby she’s claimed as a work room. Or the rocket launcher I found lying on one of the benches last week.”

 

Fusco sucked in his cheeks, “You crazies do know that there are people walking around above you?”

 

“Of course, Detective.” Finch sat down at his computer, “I imagine it’s why the ladies keep their explosives in separate corners.”

 

“Not a sane one in the bunch,” Fusco muttered under his breath.

 

“I’ll have those files ready for you in a moment, Detective.” Finch booted up the computer. “I would have been here sooner but there was a bit of a traffic jam on my way here. One of the massage parlors was being raided by some of your brethren and they had blocked off several streets.”

 

Fusco tapped the side of the box. “What if it’s like a… uh personal massager or something?”

 

Reese scowled, “That’s where your mind goes?”

 

“No, not exactly,” He explained in an attempt to defend himself. “It’s just Glasses mentioned massage parlors. And the pervs on TV always get that stuff in plain, brown boxes.”

 

“I don’t think it’s that sort of box, Lionel” Reese cocked his head to the side in thought, “Do they even make them that large?”

 

“You’re asking me?” He held up his hands, “Look I have no idea, nor do I want to, but Laverne and Shirley are into some freaky stuff. Who’s to say a giant…” He cleared his throat, “Uh relationship aid…couldn’t be in there?”

 

“I pray for all our sakes it’s not.” Finch shivered, “But that’s all the more reason to leave Ms. Shaw’s package…” Fusco loudly snorted. Finch scowled at him. “Alone.”

 

Reese still didn’t buy it. “Since when has Shaw ever been shy about sex?”

 

“A hair past never,” Fusco allowed.

 

“I wish she’d do a favor to us all and be a bit more discrete about it,” Finch mused. “Most likely not possible given that Ms. Groves is also involved.” The woman took far too much joy from embarrassing everyone with tales of her escapades. It was a bit unseemly. There were some things that were simply not to be shared in polite company.

 

“If it was something like that she’d probably announce it, just to make you uncomfortable Finch.”

 

“She does take great glee, by her standards anyway, in causing me discomfort with that sort of talk.”

 

“You gotta learn to relax a bit, Glasses,” Fusco advised. “Shaw wouldn’t be able to get to you if you were getting some of your own ya know?”

 

“When’s the last time you got any, Lionel?”

 

“None of your business, Wonderboy!”

 

“Frankly, I’d rather not hear about any of your bedroom activities.” After that pronouncement, things were quiet. Finch worked on gathering everything Fusco would need for his case on to a flash drive. Reese pulled out a few of the long guns to give them a cleaning, while Fusco played a game of fetch with Bear.

 

After one particularly wild throw sent Bear careening around and almost into the box, Fusco tilted his head in thought. “Maybe it's cookies.”

 

Reese looked up from his work with a frown. “Why would Shaw keep cookies in a box like that?” And why would Fusco’s brain jump from relationship aids to cookies?

 

“The fact that you have to ask that question is exactly why,” He smugly answered. “We'd never think to look for cookies in there.”

 

“I think you're just hungry and projecting, Lionel.”

 

“I think the pair of you should leave it alone,” Finch scolded them. “You know Ms. Shaw will not appreciate your tampering with her things.”

 

“Who’s tampering?”

 

“We’re just curious, Finch.” Where was the harm in that? Reese set the pieces of the rifle he was cleaning aside and stood up again.

 

“You know what they say about curiosity and cats, gentlemen.”

 

Fusco snapped his fingers, “A cat tree for Beretta.” The box looked tall enough, and some of those things weren’t that wide.

 

“Why would she bring that here?”

 

“Maybe she bought it but had to drop it off to go work a number.” The two of them turned to look at Finch for confirmation.

 

“She is working on an assignment,” He reluctantly offered after a beat. “I called her in early this morning.” He tapped his index finger against his bottom lip. “In fact she told me she had to run a quick errand before she dropped Bear off here.”

 

Reese nodded. “So Shaw picked whatever this is up somewhere between her apartment and here.”

 

“Which means it could be anything from a toaster oven to a bonsai tree.”

 

“Really, Lionel?”

 

“This city has everything,” He argued. Reese’s smug expression didn’t change. “Alright then Wonderboy, what's your best theory?”

 

“Something more interesting than a cat tree.” He shrugged, “Guns.”

 

“Guns,” Fusco snorted. “That's really the best you got?”

 

“Shaw loves her weapons and she hates sharing. Makes sense to me.”

 

Well it did not make sense to the rest of the team. “You’re off your nut.” Not that it was a surprise given who Wonderboy hung around with. “Since when do guns come in a brown paper box?” A cat tree made way more sense.

 

“Since when does Shaw get her weapons through completely legal means?” Reese countered.

 

Fusco puffed out his cheeks. Guy had a point but still. "I swear to god you psychos are lucky I'm constantly turning a blind eye to your crap."

 

"You're my hero, Lionel."

 

“I think we’ve more than made up for any fire arms violations given the amount of people our work has saved, Detective.”

 

“You seriously playing the karma card on me, Glasses?”

 

“It’s the biggest one we have.”

 

Reese pointed to the box, “Remember that when Shaw starts pulling guns out of that thing.”

 

“Look Shaw is the second craziest of the bunch but she's all about gun safety.” Fusco began to pace around the box. Bear woofed at him every time he passed his dog bed. “She wouldn’t just pack a cardboard box full of glocks and leave it sitting out for anyone to mess with.”

 

"Do you really think it's in danger of being messed with down here?" Reese gestured around the station. It wasn’t like anyone else knew about this place. That was the whole point of it after all.

 

But Fusco wasn’t convinced. "The pair of us are messing with it aren't we?"

 

Now that was an interesting argument. Reese pulled out the folding knife he kept clipped to his belt. “If just talking about it is considered messing with it, we may as well really mess with it.”

 

“I feel that is ill advised, Mr. Reese.” Bear echoed Finch’s concern with a hearty bark of his own.

 

“We’ll just take a quick peek and then tape it closed again.” He was pretty sure the bodega up the block carried packing tape. “Shaw will never know.”

 

“Are you forgetting eyes are watching you?”

 

“Are you really going to turn us in to Shaw, Glasses?”

 

He turned slightly in his seat. “I’m not going to do a thing, but The Machine might.”

 

Reese wasn’t afraid of that prospect. “I’m sure The Machine has bigger things to worry about.”

 

“Undoubtedly, but it also has a particular affection for Ms. Shaw.”

 

Fusco glanced over at the monitor station in the train car. The screens were blank at the moment but he knew there was something there even now. The rest of the peanut gallery may be accustomed to the damn thing, but he was still acclimating to the fact that Glasses had basically brought them all into the plot of a sci-fi movie. “Your robot acts more like Cocoa Puffs every day.”

 

“Yes,” Finch frowned. It was more than a bit concerning. But it was a worry for a time when his other associates weren’t directly courting Ms. Shaw’s wrath. And potentially dragging him along by association.

 

“Are my ears burning?” Root called out as she appeared from behind the train car.

 

Fusco jumped. “Where did you come from?”

 

“Around,” She smiled. She set a thumb drive down on the blotter on Finch’s desk. “She told me to bring that to you.”

 

Finch nodded. “Excellent.”

 

“Oooh what’s that,” Root asked pointing at the box.

 

Fusco and Reese looked at each other with matching grins. It was the taller of the two who answered her question, “Oh that? Shaw left it here.”

 

“Sameen didn’t tell me she was expecting anything.”

 

“Finch said she dropped it off when she came by with Bear.”

 

“So she got it today,” Root slowly circled the box. “She certainly didn’t have it when they left the apartment this morning.”

 

“Wonderboy thinks it’s full of guns,” Fusco helpfully supplied.

 

Root’s brows drew together in confusion. “Why would she fill a box with guns and leave it down here?”

 

Reese didn’t appreciate being mocked by Fusco, and Root. Time to give back a little of his own. “Well, Lionel thought it was full of cookies.”

 

She put her hands on her hips as she studied the box. “While I’m sure Shaw could eat that many, especially if her mother made them, I don’t think that’s our answer.” She held out her hand left hand. “May I borrow your knife, John?”

 

He suppressed a grin. That was way too easy. “Sure, Root.”

 

“Ms. Groves,” Finch called out. “Is that wise?”

 

“Sameen and I don’t have secrets,” She shrugged as she unfolded the blade. “I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a peek.”

 

“May it be known that I strongly disagree with this course of action.”

 

“You just don’t want Shaw coming down on you if this goes south,” Fusco pointed out.

 

“Can you blame me?”

 

“No, but Shaw isn’t going to catch us, Finch,” Reese assured him. Besides if they did get caught they’d just tell the truth. Root did it. The rest of them were simply innocent bystanders.

 

He watched as Root made a careful slit in the tape between the box flaps. She went to either end and made cuts along each edge. She had her tongue between her teeth as she slowly peeled back the tape from either side. She nodded in satisfaction. Then she refolded the knife. Root looked up at Reese and Fusco watching her, and made a circling motion with her index finger.

 

“Seriously?” Fusco groaned.

 

She tossed the folded knife at Reese. He easily caught it and placed it back on his belt. “As I said, Sameen and I don’t have secrets.” Root smirked, “She keeps plenty from the three of you.”

 

“I am not involved in this,” Finch replied. Though he did turn so that his back was completely to the room.

 

“Turn.” Fusco rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Reese kept staring. “You heard me, Lurch. Be a good little helper monkey and give us a twirl.”

 

“You’re mixing your metaphors.”

 

“And I’m not getting any younger,” Fusco impatiently barked. They were too close to their answer for Wonderboy to screw this up now. “Do as the crazy says.”

 

When Reese finally turned his back Root lifted the flaps. “Oh.” That wasn’t at all what she was expecting.

 

Reese spun around. “Oh, what does oh mean?”

 

Root closed the box. She swiftly picked it up, and started for the stairs. “Don’t worry boys. I know exactly what to do with this.”

 

“Wait, what’s in there?”

 

“Yeah, you can’t leave us hanging after everything. What’s in the box, Cocoa Puffs?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She giggled. The clack of her heels echoed long after she disappeared from view.

 

“I hate her,” Fusco groaned. “Have I mentioned lately that I hate her?”


	8. Sleepy Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quiet trip to the country.

 

 

 

Shaw pulled their borrowed sedan into the crowded field the pumpkin patch was using as a parking lot. Gravel crunched under the tires as she found a parking place a few rows back. A giant scarecrow smiled down at them. “This is hell right?”

 

“Don’t be silly, Sweetie,” Root laughed as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

 

“Have to agree with Tiny,” Fusco grumbled from the back seat. He pointed towards a couple in matching orange cardigans pushing a double stroller. They smiled at them with excessively whitened teeth as they passed the car. “These people look like rejects from the village of the damned.”

 

“It’s all the pumpkin spice crap. Rots the brain.”

 

“Is that your expert medical opinion, Shaw?” Reese chuckled. He got out of the car and walked around to the front.

 

Another man with a ridiculously long handlebar moustache nodded to him as he climbed into the smart car parked next to them. Shaw came to stand beside Reese. “Are you really trying to tell me that guy is normal?”

 

“There’s nothing normal about that moustache outside of a barbershop quartet.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Why did Crane come all the way out here?” Fusco asked as he and Root joined them. Their number, a Robert Crane, was an accountant by trade. By all appearances he was a rather boring, yet happily married father of two who ran a fairly successful firm in the city.

 

“His wife’s family owns the farm,” Finch explained over their ear pieces. “Apparently, they make the trip upstate every year to help out.”

 

“He shuts down the accounting firm every year to play a giant game of Farmville?” Shaw scoffed.

 

“Agri-tourism is a growing market,” Finch explained. “Between the corn maze, pumpkin, apple and various grocery product sales, and the haunted hayrides, the family pulls in an upwards of ten thousand a day during October.”

 

“In American dollars?” Fusco squeaked.

 

“Yes, Detective.”

 

“And it’s the one client of his that he doesn’t skim a little off the books of,” Root added. The one non-boring thing about Crane was the fact that he was greedy. They figured he was going to be the victim this time around because of it.

 

“Yes.” Finch cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, that knowledge doesn’t do much to narrow down our field of possible suspects.”

 

“So we find Farmer Sticky Fingers and then we wait to see who tries to steal their cow back.”

 

“Eloquent as always, Sweetie,” Root smiled. She looped her arm through Shaw’s.

 

“Oh jeez, are you two going to be like this the entire time?” He didn’t know which was creepier. Root at full Froot Loop or when she gave Shaw those dopey, smitten looks. And Shaw didn’t even react to them anymore.

 

Shaw scowled at him, “Like what?”

 

Okay, scratch that non-reaction bit. Tiny looked pretty angry at the moment, just not at Root. He held up his hands, “Nothing.” Fusco scooted back a half step. “Didn’t say a thing.”

 

Reese gave him a push forward. “Come along Lionel. Let’s get this over with before you manage to piss off Shaw.”

 

“Too late.” Fusco heard her grumble. He hurried his steps.

 

The four of them made their way from the parking lot to the front entrance to the farm. A series of gates separated the place from the outside. They wandered over to the gate with the shortest line.

 

“Welcome to Van Tassel’s Pumpkin Patch and Apple Orchard!” A woman in a bright red gingham shirt and honest to god overalls, greeted them when they reached the front. She was standing in the middle of the path so they couldn’t move around her easily. “Is this your first visit folks?”

 

“Yes, it is,” Root smiled sweetly. Shaw poked her in the side. “We drove up from the city because we’ve heard such good things.”

 

“We’re the premiere farm stand in the area. We offer seven varieties of apples and five different pumpkins as well as various decorative gourds.”

 

“Really,” Root smirked at Shaw. “Five types huh?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” The greeter smiled. “People have been going absolutely wild for the Cinderella’s this year.”

 

“Wow. I had no idea there were so many.”

 

“Oh that’s common. Most people hear pumpkin and only thing jack o lanterns or pie…” The girl continued going on about the different types of pumpkins on offer.

 

“Root,” Shaw hissed under her breath. “I swear to god, stop encouraging her.”

 

The woman shoved some brightly colored brochures into Reese and Fusco’s hands. “That’s a map of the complex and a schedule of events. We have pig races every hour on the hour until dark. So you have a couple more chances to catch one. And after dark if you’re interested, our award winning haunted hayrides begin. We feature two trail experiences this year: Zombie Apocalypse, and The Curse of the Headless Horsemen.”

 

“Uh thanks,” Fusco replied.

 

“Of course! You folks enjoy your day! Be sure to try some of our world famous jams and jellies from the gift shop.”

 

“Something tells me no one has jammed her jelly in a while,” Shaw grumbled under her breath as they walked away.

 

They thoroughly searched the gift shop building, Shaw checking the candy counter twice, but couldn’t find Crane anywhere inside. The free fudge samples were tasty though. After deciding that Crane wasn’t in the shop they made their way back outside and began walking towards the outdoor attractions.

 

Fusco tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks as they tried to appear as if they were a group of friends on a casual Sunday excursion to the country. “This place gives me the creeps.”

 

“How? It has a petting zoo, and hourly pig races,” Shaw scoffed. “And stupid hipsters roaming around with bushels of apples on their heads,” She paused for a moment, “Okay, I can sort of see the creepy.”

 

“Farm people are weird.” Fusco shook his head. “All this fresh air and sunshine makes ‘em squirrely.” He glanced around, and lowered his voice to whisper, “I’ve seen Deliverance. That does not end well for the fat guy.”

 

“At least you’re admitting it.”

 

“Shaw,” Reese cautioned, “Not helping.” He gestured around them. “And we have a job to focus on.” Which was looking harder than they had originally thought it was going to be. “It’ll take us forever to find Crane here. This place is huge.”

 

“We could try something really unorthodox and just ask someone?”

 

“And tip anyone watching off that they’re not the only one’s after the guy?” Shaw shook her head. “Probably not smart.”

 

“Divide and conquer,” Root shrugged, undeterred. “We’ll search the grounds in pairs. Shaw and I…”

 

“No way, Fruity Pebbles. You and Tiny will sneak off into a hayloft or something, and leave Wonderboy and me to do all the work.”

 

“A little extra work wouldn’t hurt you, Lionel,” Shaw drawled. “You just admitted it yourself. You could use the cardio.”

 

Reese stepped in before Fusco could attempt to reply. “How about Shaw and I take the orchard and you two check the corn maze?”

 

“Great, you really want me to go all Children of the Corn with their poster child?”

 

“Oh, but my god is a benevolent god, Outlander.” Root gave him her widest smile.

 

“You are not right.”

 

Reese started walking away. “Try not to give him a heart attack, Root.”

 

Shaw grinned at them, “Give him one. Maybe then he’d realize the benefits of cardio.”

 

“If your driving didn’t give me one already Maybelline, nothing will.” Shaw rolled her eyes before jogging after Reese. Fusco turned and shook his head at Root. “I don’t know which of you is worse.”

 

“We take turns,” She saucily quipped as she started walking towards the corn maze.

 

He went red in the face. “TMI, Froot Loop. TMI!” Root’s musical laugh floated back to him as the distance between them grew. “Oh for cripes' sake, wait up!” He shouted after her.

 

The pair of them mingled with the crowds. Flitting between bins of pumpkins, and rows of smiling scarecrows. Dodging eager parents taking hundreds of pictures of little Suzy’s first apple picking adventure.

 

“You do any of this kind of stuff when you were a kid?” Fusco asked when they were almost to the entrance of the maze.

 

“Contrary to popular belief, Texas isn’t all farms and ranches.”

 

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

 

Root took a breath, “I know.” Her childhood was still a bit of a touchy subject. “We could never afford to do much for any sort of holiday.”

 

“That the reason you’re always playing dress up?” Fusco chuckled. “Over compensating?”

 

Root grinned, “Maybe.” She certainly got better treats for her tricks these days.

 

“We never got out of the city much. But the block always had a big party for Halloween. The moms would get together and make a bunch of cakes and cookies. There’d be games and stupid little prizes for the best costumes.” He stuffed his hands back in his pockets. “Always wanted my kid to have memories like that.”

 

“You could drive Lee up here sometime.” It wasn’t that far. There was an old diner in the town nearby that The Machine told her got rave reviews. Sounded like a good father/son thing to her. Not that she had much experience with fathers…or sons.

 

“You don’t think he’s too old for this stuff?”

 

“Maybe the petting zoo, but what teen boy doesn’t like a zombie hayride?” Root smiled, “Either way, I think it would make a nice memory.”

 

“Maybe I will then.”

 

They circled the exterior of the maze but didn’t see any signs of their number. “Let’s check over by the shop again.”

 

“Sure thing, Cocoa Puffs.”

 

The crowds were getting thicker. Fewer families with young children. More teens and younger adults. It was getting close to sunset and the hay rides would begin soon. “Guess this zombie ride thing is a bigger deal than I figured.”

 

“Thinking of a career change?”

 

“Zombies would be a damn sight less stressful than running around with you.”

 

That earned him a pout, “Awe.”

 

“But no,” He huffed. “We do good work.”

 

“We do.”

 

“Even if some of the team could be the main attraction in this freak show.”

 

Root nodded, a grave look in her eyes. “I keep telling Harry that one-day Lurch is going to shamble back to his people.”

 

“Nice one,” Fusco chuckled. “Hey.” He pointed towards one of the out buildings. “Ain’t that our guy?”

 

She turned her head to follow the line of his arm. Sure enough there was Mr. Crane. “Excellent eye, Detective!”  The pair of them followed him until he stopped at the ticket booth for the hay rides. He leaned in the window, presumably to give the staff instructions.

 

“We better let the others know we got our boy.”

 

Root tapped her ear. “We found Crane.”

 

“Thank god. If one more idiot with a hipster beard asked me for cider recipes, I swear to god,” Shaw ranted.

 

Reese chuckled. Shaw was like a cat, the more she ignored people the more they wanted to come talk to her. “What’s your twenty, Root?”

 

“We’re by the line for the haunted hay rides.”

 

“On our way.”

 

“Looks like we are too,” Fusco nodded towards Crane. They watched as he left the ticket booth. The pair fell in to step behind the man as he bobbed and weaved through the increasing crowds. Eventually, he turned down a path between two large stacks of hay bales dotted with various types of pumpkins. “Where’s he going? Looks like a dead end. Nothing but fencing that way.” It was standard chain link. Bright orange plastic was woven throughout to obscure the view of anything beyond it.

 

“I think that’s a staging area for the ride staff,” Root noted as Crane opened a gate with a large sign which read _PERFORMANCE PERSONNEL ONLY_.

 

“Great, they got any cameras back there your eye in the sky can pop into?”

 

Root shook her head. “Doesn’t seem so.” She tilted her head to the side. Fusco figured The Machine was talking to her again. She bit her lip, “Let’s play dress up, Lionel.”

 

“Oh no.”

 

She took him by the elbow and began dragging him towards the gate. “Oh yes.”

 

“This ain’t funny,” Fusco grumbled ten minutes later, though the words were slightly muffled under the pig mask that was now covering his entire head. He had traded in his polo shirt and chinos for a plaid shirt and a pair of strategically blood spattered overalls.

 

Root adjusted the blue and black wig she was wearing. “It’s a little funny.” She had changed into a torn black dress and a long, tattered, black coat to go with the wig. Then a helpful makeup girl applied a few prosthetics to her face and chest that looked like wounds and hosed her down with fake blood. “I feel like Carrie without all the religious guilt.”

 

Fusco waved a hand in front of his face. “What the hell does this have to do with zombies?”

 

“I think the zombies were caused by demons.” Root shook her head. “I’m not sure. I didn’t finish reading the brochure.”

 

“Great.” He figured out he could speak clearly if he spoke out of the hole in the side of the mask’s snout. “Well, what are we supposed to do now, Mistress of the Snark?”

 

“Go get props.” She couldn’t see his face but she was sure Fusco was scowling at her. “What? That’s what the makeup girl said.”

 

“I should have let you run off with, Shaw.”

 

Root nodded, “This probably is your penance from the universe for that particular bout of clitterferance.”

 

“Oh my god, Nutter Butter, stop!”

 

She shook her head at him. He made it far too easy sometimes. “Come on. Maybe they’ll let you play with a chainsaw.”

 

They did not let him play with a chainsaw. Though he was handed a pretty nice pitchfork. Root wasn’t overly impressed by the quality of the rubber knife she had been given. “How am I supposed to work with this?” She huffed.

 

“You know we’re here to prevent someone from getting shanked, not do it ourselves right?”

 

“I meant purely for defensive purposes.”

 

“Yeah right,” He scoffed. “You think I don’t know who I’m dealing with?” Sure Banana Nut Crunch played for the good guys these days, but a tiger was still a tiger, didn’t matter if it was in a cage or not. “Knowing you as well as I do though, I bet you could still kill a guy with that one.”

 

She shrugged. He was probably right about that. She was about to tell him so when something across the room caught her eye. Root discretely pointed to a group of men in monster makeup who were gathered in the corner of the staging area. “Do those zombies look odd to you?”

 

“They’re grown men painted up like zombies, that’s already odd.”

 

“Watch them,” Root instructed.

 

Fusco rolled his eyes but did as told. After a few minutes his eyes narrowed. “They don’t seem to know where to go.” Everyone else was either gathering props, grabbing a preshow snack, or going over to the carts that would take them to their assigned spots for the night. Their movements were practiced, relaxed. But those zombies were just standing there, tense, looking around as if they were waiting on something.

 

“Exactly,” Root nodded. “If you were a costumed actor at a horror attraction that’s been up and running for weeks already, wouldn’t you know exactly where to set up?”

 

“Maybe they’re new?” The two of them had been able to sneak in here after all. Obviously, the place had been expecting a few new folks.

 

“All seven of them?”

 

“You two!” A shrill voice interrupted. “Get over there with the other new kids.”

 

“See,” Fusco grumbled as he and Root shuffled along.

 

“You don’t think it odd that they have a bunch of new actors come in right as Crane’s number comes up?”

 

Fusco shrugged. She had him there. It was too good of a coincidence to actually be one.

 

They went and stood behind the shifty zombies. “Hey fellas!” Fusco greeted. One of the men just grunted at him. He leaned over to Root, “Maybe they’re method actors?”

 

“Or maybe they don’t speak much English.” She discretely pointed to a large tear in the back of one of the men’s shirts. “That look like a bratva tattoo to you?”

 

It did. “Cripes,” He swore under his breath. “We better give Reese and Shaw the heads up.”

 

Root nodded but before she could slip away, Crane himself approached the group. “All right since it’s your first night, this group will work the line with me,” He instructed them. “Walk around, wave and snarl at the people, pose for some pictures. Keep ‘em entertained while they wait for the next tractor to come around.”

 

He pulled out a cell phone. “We’re under threat of severe storms tonight so we may have to close down early. It’s vital we keep as many people we can from getting bored and leaving before we can work them through.” He turned to lead them outside.

 

He stopped them again as they reached the gate they had entered from. “Remember entertained customers are happy customers. Happy customers are repeat customers.”

 

Fusco leaned in close to Root. “What are we supposed to do now?”

 

“I doubt they’ll go after him right away given all these people around.” She gestured at the gathered crowd. “You keep an eye on Crane, and I’ll find Sameen and John.”

 

“Maybe don’t mention the,” He waved at his face.

 

“Awe, Lionel,” Root grinned. “But you look so cute in your little overalls.”

 

He made a rude gesture and then stomped away, pitchfork held high. “Method acting,” She called after him. “I approve.”

 

She adjusted her dress and then stepped out into the crowd. She stopped here and then to take a few pictures. All the while she kept one eye on her zombie companions. Thus far they appeared to be doing exactly as asked. They growled at the crowd. They growled at each other. One that got a little too close to the business end of his pitchfork, growled at Fusco. She noted that one of the zombies was always within sight of Crane.

 

“Tricky, tricky, tricky,” She mumbled to herself. A teenage girl in line near her shuffled further away. Root waggled her eyebrows at her. The girl squeaked and hid behind a large guy she assumed was her boyfriend. “You’re welcome,” Root muttered under her breath.

 

She kept prowling the grounds near the line. Root smiled when she finally saw her favorite grumpy face loitering around the back. Unfortunately, Crane had decided to take a little stroll down the line as well. She nodded to Fusco, who was being a very capable shadow. Root had to let Shaw know what was happening with the bratva, but she would only have so much time to do so without attracting attention.

 

She made an exaggerated show of creeping down the line. Reese noticed her first. His eyes widened before he slapped Shaw on the back and gestured for her to turn around. Root made a grab for her arm, “Now here’s a gal I wouldn’t mind dragging back to hell with me.”

 

Shaw looked her up and down. “Seriously?” She hissed.

 

“Don’t worry it’s not mine.” Root whispered. “Or even blood,” She poked at one sticky patch. “I think it’s mostly karo syrup actually.”

 

“I don’t want to know.”

 

“Oh come on pretty lady,” Root spoke up when she caught Crane watching her with interest. “One selfie?”

 

Reese smirked at them, “Go on Shaw.” He wiggled his phone. “I’ll take it.”

 

Root wrapped an arm around Shaw’s waist and put the rubber knife to her throat. “This sort of reminds me of our first date,” She whispered, her lips brushing against her ear.

 

“What part?” Shaw asked through clenched teeth. “The knife to someone’s throat? Or you acting insane, while I stood around being confused?”

 

“You do make the most adorable confused face,” Root chuckled.

 

“Why are you playing dress up?”

 

She leaned in closer. “We think the zombies are Russian mafia.”

 

Shaw blinked as the flash went off. She slowly turned her head, “I thought I had heard every insane thing that could come out of your mouth and then you hit me with that.”

 

Root popped her on the ass with the knife. “Let Lurch know?” Shaw nodded. “Oh and its Lionel in the pig mask,” She told her before shoving her back towards Reese.

 

“John, be sure and get a picture of the pig guy.”

 

“Why the sudden interest?” He asked when Shaw rejoined him in line.

 

“It’s Fusco.”

 

“Do I want to know?” Reese raised his phone and took a picture of him pointing the pitchfork at some teenagers. That one was getting tacked up on the board in the bullpen the next time Fusco got lippy about paperwork.

 

She lowered her voice. “The zombies are bratva.”

 

“No, I didn’t want to know,” Reese shook his head as Shaw grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the line.

 

“That would seem to be plausible,” Finch noted having overheard their conversation.

 

“Excuse me?” Shaw scoffed. “Mafia zombies are a thing that’s plausible in your world now, Finch?”

 

“Erm,” He cleared his throat. “Not the zombies per se, but the fact that one of the men on Crane’s client list, an Abraham Miller, has a record with the NYPD. Suspected ties to the Russian mob.”

 

“So our amateur farm boy is an idiot on top of being a thief?”

 

“Perhaps he didn’t know exactly who he was stealing from,” Finch mused.

 

“In this case ignorance is so far away from bliss, it’s not even on the same planet.” If you’re going to be a crook at least be a smart one. Was Shaw the only one that believed in having standards for that sort of thing?

 

“What could possibly be their plan?” Finch asked. “From what you told me about the crowds they can’t just go after Mr. Crane with all those witnesses.”

 

“Wait until the last tractor rolls,” Shaw guessed. “Bump him off and take off before it and all these potential witnesses get back. Police won’t know who to look for.” Not like anyone would say ‘hey the zombies did it.’ Even if they did, it’s not like you can hold a lineup of the walking dead.

 

Reese nodded. It was the only plan that made sense, given the fact that the men decided to play dress up, instead of taking care of business right away. “Looks like we’re skipping the line.”

 

“Great,” Shaw grumbled. “Let’s go find somewhere to post up until the crowds thin out.”

 

“Actually,” Reese smirked, “I have a better idea.”

 

The first was easy. Reese grabbed the zombie when he shambled past a shaded area between the ticket booth and the back of the lines for the two rides. One patented sleeper hold, and some zip ties later, and it was one down, six zombies to go.

 

They had to wait a while for the perfect opportunity with zombie number two. But when one of their targets stumbled towards the bathrooms half an hour later, Shaw and Reese shared matching smirks. They quickly fell into step behind him. Reese followed the zombie into the men’s room while Shaw kept lookout. Her eyes narrowed after a few minutes when two teen boys started walking her way.

 

Shaw met them just before the entrance to the bathrooms. She held her hands up, palms facing outward in a classic “hold up’ gesture. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. My boyfriend had a bad burrito.” A loud groan came from within the men’s room. “See? Yeah. If I were you, I’d hold it or take it behind those scarecrows over there.” Shaw pointed to one of the displays about a hundred yards off.

 

When another loud groan and then a grunt sounded out, the two boys looked at each other. After a moment they started to walk towards the scarecrows Shaw had pointed out. She smirked, “Sometimes it’s just too easy.”

 

Reese stepped out of the bathroom five minutes later wiping his hands on a paper towel. “Hope no one needs to use the handicapped stall tonight.”

 

Root caught on to what they were up to not long after, and nodded towards one of the men. She had noticed he had appreciated the low cut of her gown earlier. She pointed at Shaw and then towards a wall of hay bales not too far from the ticket booth. Shaw nodded in understanding and slipped out of view.

 

It wasn’t hard for Root to catch her target’s attention. She just pulled down the neckline of her dress a little and hiked up the skirt a lot. “Do I even want to know what you’re up to Nutter Butter?” Fusco hissed over the coms.

 

“Don’t worry about her,” Shaw scolded him. “Just make sure the other idiots don’t follow, when she leads one off.”

 

“Just worried your girlfriend is going to get frostbite.”

 

“Oh I’m not planning on being the one who gets bitten,” Root whispered. One hair flip and her fish was on the hook. “Coming your way, Shaw.”

 

Root wandered towards the hay bales. Her admirer was about fifteen feet behind her. Once she was out of view from the line, she darted around the display and out of sight. The smitten zombie followed, thinking he was about to get a treat.

 

Unfortunately for him Shaw was all out of treats.

 

He turned the corner Root had, vanishing from view of the line. He shuffled a few more steps before stopping in confusion. He looked around but Root was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Hey stupid!” Number three turned just in time to catch a pumpkin to the face. The impact knocked him out cold. Shaw stood on a stack of hay bales with a grin.

 

Root came out of hiding to smile up at her, “Nice shot.”

 

“Way too easy. See if you can con another one to shamble through here, while I tie this moron up.” 

 

Number four took a pumpkin to the face fifteen minutes later.

 

With the numbers of enemy targets dwindling, Root decided to swing by the ticket booth to check on Crane. When she peered into the booth, he was standing up and gesturing towards the doors. She tilted her head and listened. “Crowd’s thinning out. Storm is about half an hour away. Keep an eye on this last bunch. Make sure they get loaded on okay. I’ll take the till to the office to be counted,” Crane told the staff inside of the ticket booth. “And one of you remind me to call the university tomorrow and tell them off about those lazy zombies. I asked for theatre students and they apparently sent me frat boys.”

 

Not long after Crane stepped out of the booth holding a cash box. Root nodded to Fusco and then to their nearest zombie friend. He shouldered his pitchfork and started towards him. Root went to follow Crane.

 

She quickly discerned that he was heading back towards the staging area they had started from. There must be a way to cut through to the main offices from there. Crane turned the corner and slipped from view. Root followed. The path was darker now. The moon had been covered a while ago by the first wisps of storm clouds from the approaching front.

 

Up ahead, two figures stepped on to the path, blocking Crane’s way. Root hurried her steps. One of the figures stuck Crane putting him on to his back with one blow. Root broke out in to a full on run. “Hey!” She shouted.

 

The second of the men turned to face her. He nodded to the first man and then charged towards her. She smiled. This was going to be fun.

 

His first swing went wild. Root avoided it easily. She was able to land a glancing blow to the underside of his jaw. The zombie cursed and swung at her again.

 

Root ducked under his arm and hit him in the side. He left out an oof but recovered quickly enough to raise his arm and backhand her. Root fell into the dirt, slightly dazed. That had been a lucky shot. He laughed as he raised his foot to kick out at her when a blur of black fabric and bad attitude plowed into him.

 

Shaw’s charge knocked him to his knees. She swiftly followed up with a knee to the face. And then another. And another. There was an audible crunch of breaking bone and then the zombie toppled over. “Who’s laughing now?”

 

Root looked over to the number. Crane was on the ground too. Blood and spittle were oozing down his chin but he was still alive. Reese had the other guy in a headlock. It seemed the cavalry had well and truly arrived then.

 

Someone gasped. Root looked up to see a group of teenagers standing at the end of the path. One of the tractors must have returned.

 

Root pointed at the fighting men. “This is what happens when you try to sneak in without a ticket.” There was a grumble from the crowd as Shaw waved a blood and makeup smeared hand at them. Root beamed at her for playing along so quickly. “Just remember our security is top notch. Thank you for visiting Van Tassel’s.” She waved at the group as they finally moved along.

 

“Good cover,” Reese nodded in approval. His zombie was now lying face down in the dirt. He knelt beside him to tie his hands.

 

“Not my first time working a cover, Lurch.”

 

“Wait,” Shaw looked around with her hands on her hips. “We took out four by the line. These guys make six.” She glanced at Reese “I thought you said you counted seven zombies?”

 

At the same time a pair of arms reached out from between the hay bales and grabbed Crane. The last zombie had somehow gotten away from Fusco and found them. “Get back,” He shouted in heavily accented English. He was holding something to Crane’s throat.

 

“Drop the weapon,” Reese ordered drawing his gun. Shaw did the same.

 

But Root held out her arm, “Just relax.”

 

“He’s got a knife,” Reese pointed out.

 

“No, he doesn’t,” Root smirked, and then in flawless Russian announced, “That’s a rubber knife, you idiot.” She had dropped it in the fight earlier.

 

The man looked at the knife and then at Shaw and Reese. He shoved Crane away from him and turned to run. He made it about ten steps before something tripped him in the dark. Then someone was looming over him holding a pumpkin.

 

“Somebody order an extra ugly jack o lantern?” Fusco asked as he slammed the pumpkin down on the last zombie’s head.

 

Reese smirked. “You been saving that?”

 

“Since we got here.” He proudly grinned. He shoved the would be assassin with his foot. The guy rolled around in the dirt trying to pull his head out of the gourd without much success. “Maybe I should have cut an air hole in it first?” He shrugged. “Eh, what can you do.” Fusco glanced over at a still shaking Crane, “We don’t have to pay for that one right?”

 

“On the house,” Crane stuttered out.

 

“Can we toss in a few bushels of apples and some fudge?” Shaw asked, knowing to exploit a good opportunity when it presented itself.

 

“Sure, whatever,” Crane sighed.

 

Reese raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged. “What? Root likes apples, and the fudge is actually pretty good.”

 

“Isn’t she the sweetest thing?”

 


	9. New Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no waking up. There's no getting out. You're trapped inside the dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay we’re going to bump hard against The Day the World Went Away with this chapter. A specific event from that episode happens after a fashion, basically right off the jump. I say this right now so that if any of you still aren’t okay with/don’t want to go near that episode in any form or function, you can skip this chapter. With that said, just know there are more nights to come so if you choose to keep reading, obviously I am not going to really do the thing. I mean I said so in the tags, Season 5 isn’t going to Season 5 things up, up in here.  
> BUT, reminder 6741 did occur in this universe because that episode was top shelf and I didn’t really explicitly say what Samaritan did to Shaw in 12 Days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Root almost missed The Machine’s warning. She looked up and caught the glint of sunlight off of the muzzle of the gun. “No!” She jerked the steering wheel. It felt like god’s fist smacked her in the chest. Harold’s pale face, the road ahead, both swam in and out of focus and then everything went black.

 

“Another kill sir,” Stewart Glen informed the General overseeing the operation. “Project Mirage is rebooting.”

 

“I can see that,” General Fredrick scowled at him. “Reset the gauntlet, add two additional chase cars.”

 

“Yes sir,” he replied.

 

It wasn’t long after that, that Stewart began to feel light headed. “Sir, I think I need a break.”

 

“After this next run,” The General yawned mid-sentence. “Seems like the long hours are getting to all of…” Suddenly, General Fredrick fell over.

 

“Help!” Stewart cried out. But the guards didn’t move. When he took his eyes off of the sight of General Fredrick lying on the ground, Stewart discovered that the guards were in a similar state.

 

Why wasn’t he out? He glanced around wildly. The others were all closer to the door. He looked up. And the vents! There was something in the vents.

 

The oxygen tank for the test subject. Stewart reached out and scrambled for the face mask. His movements were sluggish but he was finally able to grasp the mask and slide it over his nose and mouth. A twist of the valves and he was breathing clean oxygen once again.

 

He shook as he tried to slow down his rapid breathing. Something really weird was going on. His eyes strayed to the test subject. He wondered if she had anything to do with this. The thought caused his hands to shake. If this was somehow because of her, Stewart knew there was no way things would end well for him.

 

Shit. Maybe he should ditch everyone. Just take the oxygen tank and run. It had wheels, he could probably drag it along. But what if there was something worse waiting outside of the lab for him to do just that.

 

Jesus no wonder people in horror movies acted like idiots all the time. There were no good choices when your imagination made every outcome seem worse than the one before. Stay put, wait for something bad to happen. Run away and maybe something bump into something worse.

 

There was a thud from somewhere above him. Something was in the vents. Well, something else was in the vents as that was obviously where whatever knocked out the General and the guards came from. Shit, what was he going to do?

 

General Fredrick and the guards all carried side arms. He could go for one. He was a poor shot on a good day, but if something got close enough he should be able to hit it.

 

There was another thud before he could move. Then a bang as the large vent cover in the celling slammed into the ground. Almost immediately afterwards a small figure followed.

 

It was clearly a woman, given the figure’s stature. Dressed head to toe in black tactical clothing. A full face gas mask obscured her features as she swept the room. She was obviously checking to make sure whatever had preceded her through the vents had done its job. She stopped when she noticed him and brought the rather large gun she was holding up in the universal sign of ‘move and I’ll drop you.’

 

Stewart held up his hands.

 

The woman removed one hand from the gun and looked at something on her forearm. Satisfied with whatever she saw, she reached up and pulled off the gas mask, revealing a familiar, angry face.  “You!”

 

Stewart realized in that moment that he was absolutely going to die. He may have peed a little. Though in his defense he felt like that loss of control could be overlooked seeing as he was staring at a freaking nightmare.

 

Shaw activated her earpiece. “The gas did its job. You’re clear to move.” She nodded again as whoever she had been talking to replied. Then she turned her attention back to Stewart. She nodded to the test subject. “Is that what I think it is?”

 

He nodded, knowing she was referring to the VR headset the woman was wearing. “It’s based off of the system Samaritan employed.”

 

“What would happen if I pulled the plug?”

 

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Maybe if he didn’t elaborate, she wouldn’t shoot the messenger right away. He had quite a bit more mental repenting for all his sins to do before that happened. Forgive me for copying off of Jenni Ruston’s paper in third grade. Forgive me for stealing that pack of gum. Forgive me for…

 

“How long?” She took an angry step forward.

 

“Seventy-two hours,” He squeaked.

 

“The simulations can run even while she’s unconscious?”

 

“You know they can,” He replied in a rare flash of courage.

 

She unclipped a mass of zip ties from her belt. She tossed the bundle to Stewart. “I’m going to disarm your buddies and then you’re going to bind their hands and feet. You try anything I put a bullet in you.”

 

Stewart nodded. By the time he had tied up General Fredrick and the three guards who had been stationed here to watch him, Shaw had let two other men into the room. When she noticed he was finished she pointed towards a rolling office chair. “Sit.”

 

He quickly did as told. She took the remaining zip ties from him. Then she proceeded to strap his arms to the arms of the chair.

 

“The others are sweeping the building,” The taller man told her as she worked. The other man had gone over to the observation station and was attaching what looked like an external hard drive to the system. “We shouldn’t be interrupted.”

 

“Then I guess it’s story time.” Shaw stepped away from Stewart. She picked a pitcher of water up off of one of the tables on the observation platform and dumped it over the general’s head. Stewart noticed that the taller man had seated him away from the guards.

 

“What?” General Fredrick choked and sputtered. “Who?” His eyes darted around wildly. “Do you have any idea how many federal offenses you’re committing right now?”

 

“I try not to keep count,” Reese replied. Shaw simply glared. 

 

“You’re about to bring the full might of the United States government down on your head son.”

 

“Been there done that,” Reese replied. “Apparently, the brass still doesn’t share information between branches. Ask Control how well things went the last time she messed around with Decima?”

 

“I don’t…”                                                                                   

 

“I don’t have time for your shit,” Shaw cut him off. “Northern Lights, the program was shut down for a reason. Why are you digging up the bones?”

 

“Decima’s research was our property. Do you know how much funding was sunk into their programs? Uncle Sam is just taking back what’s his.” General Fredrick swallowed. “You’ll never get out of here alive.  We’re sitting under a mountain. I have men positioned on every level between here and the exit. Those computers are on a closed network. No signals go in our out.”

 

“You mean your men who are still sleeping off the gas we put into your ventilation system?” Reese shook his head. He lowered his voice and looked at Shaw. “Though the location explains why we couldn’t reach her through the implant.”

 

“Yeah,” She nodded. She turned her attention back to General Fredrick. “How did she get hooked up to that thing anyway?”

 

The General puffed out his chest. “She was trespassing on government property.” He nodded to Stewart, “Said she was going to kill my senior technician. I gave the order…” His words died with the sound of a gunshot. He followed a half second afterwards.

 

Shaw turned the smoking gun to Stewart. “Congratulations, since no one else is awake yet, you just got promoted.”

 

“I-I, I don’t.”

 

Shaw put the gun to his head. “Pull her out of that thing.”

 

He swallowed. “I do that right now and her brain will fry. She’ll be a vegetable.”

 

“That’s bull shit. You people jumped me in and out of these things like a fucked up hokey pokey, whenever Greer shook his bony fingers.” She remembered the glee all of them, including the now sniveling Stewart, took in that process.

 

“This isn’t like the facility you were kept in. I’m doing billion-dollar work on a food stamp budget. There wasn’t money to use for installing an emergency exit.”

 

“She dies, you die.”

 

“I know you.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen you,” He leaned forward and pointed to his temple, “In here. The lengths you’d go for her? I’m dead either way.”

 

Shaw stuck him across the face with the butt of her gun. The force of the blow sent him and the chair crashing into one of the instrument tables and then on to the floor. “It’s how you do, Stewie. Lady or the tiger. You don’t figure out a way to keep her alive and help us get her out, it’ll be nothing but claws for days before I let you die.”

 

“They may let you kill me but they won’t let you do that.” He coughed. “You forget I know them too.”

 

It was Finch who spoke next. “You know Samaritan’s cardboard cutout versions of us.” He slowly turned in his seat so that he was facing Stewart head on. “I assure you, you do not know me, Mr. Glen. Nor do you know what I will allow to happen should you allow my friend to die. Ms. Shaw isn’t the only one you should be afraid of.”

 

Reese simply crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“So what will it be?”

 

“Look I told you. There’s no way to pull her out. I can’t shut it down. You can’t cut the power. There’s nothing to be done.”

 

“We’ll see about that,” Finch replied turning back to the monitors.

 

Reese nodded at Root. “Sit with her for a second while Finch does his thing.” Shaw looked like she’d argue for a moment but then her posture deflated and she walked over to the bed.

 

Reese leaned over Stewart. “If you’re lying to us, you can be sure I won’t stop her from tearing you apart.” He grabbed the back of the chair and set him back upright. Reese pushed the chair to the opposite side of the room to give Shaw a measure of privacy while she watched over Root.

 

“We’re in Ms. Shaw,” Finch announced five minutes later.

 

Shaw turned away from the bed and came to stand next to the workstation Finch had taken over. “Can The Machine shut this down?”

 

He shook his head. “Mr. Glen is correct; a sudden stop would be like slamming into a brick wall going seventy.”

 

“Splat.”

 

“Not to put too fine a point on it Mr. Reese, but yes.”

 

“Why would they design a program they couldn’t stop and start at will?”

 

“It appears they were developing the technology for training purposes. Specifically, for black ops assets. The program forces the subject to perform a specific task within the scenario. If the subject dies in the scenario, the program resets. The only way out is to complete the objective.”

 

“Why wouldn’t they put in a failsafe?” The three of them turned to glare at Stewart.

 

“They wanted results, not safety.”

 

“Why is it you keep turning up at every job with a sign that says megalomaniacal idiot, minions wanted?”

 

“Ms. Shaw.”

 

“What?”

 

“We need to focus on helping Root. You can verbally abuse the man later.”

 

“Oh I can do both. I’m a multitasker.” And she was going to do far more than verbally abuse him.

 

Reese cleared his throat, “Can The Machine program in an exit?”

 

“The program is using a bastardized version of Samaritan’s code. It’s rather complex for what amounts to the work of a thousand government monkeys banging on a thousand keyboards,” He drawled. “The Machine has access to the system because of this,” Finch tapped the device he had installed. “But it is a mere fraction of its normal operational capabilities. The Machine even limited as this, could make such an alteration eventually, but it would take a great deal of time.”

 

Finch looked down for a moment and sighed. “And what Mr. Glen has failed to mention is that while the subject does not physically die when their avatar does in the system, they do have many of the physiological responses one would to being placed in such a situation.”

 

“Yeah, I can attest that it’s a real bitch,” Shaw grumbled. There’s the slightest tremor in her hands. Everyone wisely ignored it.

 

“Yes, but given your erm…unique condition, the cumulative effects took far longer to affect you. For example, Root will have a much more pronounced fear response to what she sees, and given her heart condition...” Finch trailed off.

 

“And all those guards the general mentioned will be waking up soon,” Reese added.

 

Shaw scowled. “In other words, we really don’t have the time to wait around for Skynet-mini to build a back door.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

Reese looked over at Stewart, “So what’s the objective of this scenario?”

 

“Make it through the gauntlet. Eliminate opposition team Operative Alpha.”

 

“She just has to take out one guy? That should be cake for her,” Shaw scoffed.

 

“The program exploits the subject’s weaknesses in order to prevent them from completing the objective.”

 

“Weaknesses?”

 

“Memories. Placing them in stressful situations constructed from similar events. Putting loved ones in danger.”

 

“Baby murderbot is borrowing daddy’s bag of tricks.”

 

“Indeed.” Finch sighed, “The program has essentially created a chessboard where the player is virtually in check from the start.”

 

“What if we swapped the board?”

 

“What?”

 

Shaw leaned forward at tapped the screen. “The whole point of this thing is she gets out of the trap and takes out their operative. That’s the basic structure.” She looked to Stewart for confirmation.

 

“Yes. If she dies first, it simply resets using the same format unless we physically code in additional variables.”

 

Finch pointed to the screens in front of him. “The parameters cannot be altered. She has to secure the deliverable for the program to safely shut down.”

 

“So change the path.”

 

“Alter the trappings of the scenario? The end goal is escape, but instead of the gauntlet they’ve programed, we place her in a different setting?”

 

“One where her weaknesses aren’t readily available.”

 

It sounded like a good idea to Reese but it still begged the question, “Can The Machine do it?”

 

One of the screens went blank and then a cursor appeared.

 

_I can use a lattice of her own memories. The program will continue to try and prevent her from advancing. It wants her to fail._

 

“Root’s really good at not giving assholes what they want.”

 

“One of her better qualities,” Reese agreed.

 

“Well, then,” Harold cracked his knuckles. “Let’s build a poorer mousetrap.”

 

Root sat up in bed gasping. She ran her hand over her chest. She had been in the car when she was hit. Had they brought her in for medical attention? She looked around. This was definitely a hospital room. Her eyes narrowed. But it was the wrong kind of hospital.

 

Stoneridge. She was back in Stoneridge. How was it possible? She had escaped. Hadn’t she?

 

“Come on Robin,” An orderly called out, suddenly appearing at her door. “You slept through breakfast. You have to come to lunch. Doc’s orders.”

 

She tilted her head. She could hear out of her right ear.

 

Could it be? Could it really have been two years’ worth of delusions? That didn’t seem right. And yet here she was back in Stoneridge, with two functioning ears.

 

“Robin,” The orderly called out again.

 

“I’m coming,” She replied distractedly. She sat by herself as she choked down her meal. The food was as horrible as she remembered. She tried to get away for a few minutes after she ate to catch The Machine’s attention but the orderlies were keeping remarkably close today.

 

Soon she was escorted to a familiar office for her afternoon therapy session. Root steeled into the seat across from the desk and glanced around the room. Everything looked the same. She distinctly remembered that phone on the desk ringing the night she escaped. But if she was sitting here it meant she hadn’t done so. She rubbed her temples. Her head was pounding the more she thought about it.

 

The door opened behind her. Root turned around. A woman stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. “You’re not Dr. Carmichael.”

 

“Dr. Carmichael has taken a leave of absence, remember?” The woman walked around the desk and sat down. “You were notified of the change of personnel last week.”

 

Was she? Things were fuzzy. The drugs they had her on were now clearly effecting her far more than simply giving her the shakes. It was good that she’d be leaving soon.

 

“I’m Dr. Thompson,” The woman gave her what most would describe as a kind smile. Not showing too much teeth. Her eyes were warm but not too wide. Her tone was soft yet even. All in all, carefully crafted so as not to appear threatening.

 

“So you drew the short straw,” Root smirked.

 

“Is that how you see yourself? As something to be endured.”

 

“You jump right in with both feet don’t you?”

 

“You’ve been in a care program for a few weeks now.” She waved her hand over the desk. “I have Dr. Carmichael’s notes right here.”

 

“Ah yes, is delusions of grandeur repeated in all caps?” She was sure it was underlined a few times for good measure as well.

 

“I’ll admit that was in there once or twice. No caps though.” Dr. Thompson smiled. “What I was attempting to get to, was that you don’t need the basics repeated. The best way for me to learn about you now is to listen to you.”

 

“Isn’t that a little unorthodox? Working from someone else’s conclusions?”

 

“Not really. Happens all the time. And I know enough to begin to form my own.”

 

Root didn’t reply. She stared out the window. She felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. She frowned. No that wasn’t quite right. She knew she hadn’t had a conversation with this woman before. But she felt like she had already left this place far behind her. In the dream she had been free for quite some time. But if she was here, then obviously that hadn’t happened.

 

“You seem agitated Robin.”

 

“Do I?” Root looked up. “How would you know? We’ve only just met.”

 

“Classic signs, you’re defensive, fidgety, there are bags under your eyes…”

 

“All could be accounted to the simple fact that I’ve been institutionalized.”

 

“Also true,” Dr. Thompson allowed. “I take it you still have some anger about that fact?”

 

“Wouldn’t you?”

 

“Ah but we aren’t here to talk about my feelings on the topic.” When Root didn’t reply, the doctor pressed the issue. “Why do you think you’re here?”

 

“Because she wants me to be.”

 

“Your god?” She didn’t ask the question with the same tone of skepticism most people did. Root would give her that.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does it bother you that she wants you here?”

 

“No. I know she has a plan for me.” That was the one thing she was absolutely certain of.

 

“And yet you are clearly uncomfortable.” Dr. Thompson leaned forward in her seat. “And I don’t believe that it’s simply because you dislike my company.”

 

Root sighed and looked at the clock. She still had another forty-five minutes. May as well kill some time. Especially, as it seemed The Machine wasn’t feeling chatty today. “I’ve been having strange dreams.”

 

“Oh? I have to admit dreams are an interest of mine. Would you like to talk about it?”

 

“I did bring it up.” Root frowned, “But it’s silly.” She was sitting here in Stoneridge, obviously she wasn’t going to be in a car with Harold Finch anytime soon.

 

“Do you know what’s funny about dreams? You can see the most, pardon the term, insane things and yet your mind adapts to readily accept them. Your mind can be showing you a completely normal memory from your day one minute and then the birthday clown that frightened you in the third grade shows up at random. There’s no reason for him to be there logically, and yet you’re still afraid. Because it feels real to you in the fabric of the dream.”

 

“I think a clown appearing at random would be frightening no matter what logic dictates.”

 

“True,” Dr. Thompson smiled. “My point is that what may seem off to you in the light of day, would understandably feel quite real within the context of a dream. Perhaps saying it out loud will help you rest easier?”

 

“When in Rome I suppose,” Root sighed. “The point of this room is to talk right?”

 

“That’s definitely part of it,” Dr. Thompson nodded. “So lay it out for me. No matter how weird.” She made a go ahead motion with her left hand. For some reason, Root felt comfortable. Before she realized it she had explained her dream, carefully omitting a few choice details of course.

 

“So no matter who is in the car, you end up dying before you can escape your pursuers?”

 

“Wash, rinse, and repeat,” Root nodded. It felt like she had been driving that car every night, over and over again.

 

“But you feel like you have to make it down the street.” She tapped her pen against the desk’s blotter.

 

“Well, yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We have to escape.” They were being hunted. That’s what you did when you were weak and being hunted. You escaped. You ran so you could live to fight another day.

 

Except Root hadn’t lived. Not once.

 

“But you said that the people with you are the reason why you were placed in this institution? Why not simply let them go? You told me yourself you’re angry because you’re in here, if it’s their fault then why show them any loyalty? Why sacrifice yourself to keep them alive? It’s just a dream after all.”

 

“The world needs him. I need her.” The words were true even if they didn’t fit Root’s life here in Stoneridge. The thought of any harm coming to Sameen Shaw ground through her like broken glass. It made Root want to wretch and scream in equal measures.

 

“And what do they need?”

 

“I don’t follow.”

 

“Let’s just say hypothetically, if this situation was not a dream, if you really were friends with these people, and you continued to place yourself in dangerous situations in order to protect them, what would happen when you don’t come back?”

 

“They’ll be safe,” She shrugged. “They’ll be alive.”

 

“Will they?”

 

“Of course.” The Harry in the dream didn’t need her. As long as he had a helper monkey and a plan… He was kind, if a bit hypocritical in his arguments. He wanted them all to survive but knew it wasn’t possible. She shrugged again. “If I did wake up one day and was suddenly part of the team, he still wouldn’t trust me fully. It’s not in his nature. He’s moved on just fine from far more intimate associations, besides.”

 

“And the woman who is there?”

 

“She’d be…” A memory flashed before her eyes. Laying in a hospital bed. Shaw scowling beside her.

 

_“I don’t want to work without you.” She stood up, knocking the chair over, and began to pace. Root was reminded of a tiger in a cage. “I don’t want to go on without you just because I could.” She spun on her heel and pointed an accusing finger at Root, “Did you ever think of that?”_

 

“Shaw would…” Another flash. The same hospital room.

 

_“I want to know what you think this is.” She kept on before Root could answer, “Because if you think that I could watch you die and then turn around and go on as if nothing happened, as if my life wouldn’t be fundamentally changed, then you and I have very different concepts of what our relationship is.”_

 

It felt real. It felt like a genuine memory. Root didn’t know how that could be though seeing as she was sitting in this office. But dismissing those images as a flight of fancy felt as wrong as you could get.

 

“Sameen would be very angry with me,” She finally answered. It didn’t make sense given her circumstances, but she knew it was true. Root rubbed her temples. Her head was pounding.

 

“You’re looking a little pale.”

 

She smirked, despite the pain. “They don’t let me out to work on my tan much.”

 

“Maybe we should stop here.”

 

Root nodded. Stopping would be good. She needed to get her head on straight. “I think that is a good idea.”

 

“Okay,” Dr. Thompson smiled. “I have a bit of homework for you. I think it might help you with these dreams. Try to remember, in your dreams what were you doing before you went to get Harold?”

 

“How do you know his name?” Root frowned in confusion. She hadn’t told the doctor his name.

 

Her headache was growing worse. “I was.” Images flashed inside her head. Speaking with Harold in the subway about Samaritan in her dream. But then again telling Harold that the program they had been working on with The Machine to monitor the government for any signs they were trying to reboot Northern Lights had picked up something.

 

“I was.” Dream Sameen shouting at her to get into the car or she’d shoot her herself. Then Sameen shouting at her on their private line that she was going to shoot her because she had forgotten to pick up more milk after she had reminded her seven times.

 

“No, I.” The bullet hitting her chest. Another flash, holding a gun on the asshole who had experimented on Sameen and then something hitting her on the back of the head.

 

Stewart Glen. Project Mirage.

 

“I was killing Samaritan’s bastard stepchild,” She snarled. “This whole thing. It’s not real.”

 

Dr. Thompson smiled. “I think you’re ready to go now.”

 

The phone on the desk began to ring. Root stood up. The windows that were full of sunlight a moment before, now showed a dark sky.

 

“It’s gotten really quiet out there don’t you think?”

 

She nodded. “Probably means it’s time for a nice, moon-lit stroll.” She walked across the room but paused with her hand on the doorknob. “One question.” Root turned to her and smiled, “Why did you choose this image?”

 

“Dr. Thompson was one of Harold’s mentors. She was a friend and a guide to him at a time when he needed someone he could trust. He thought it would be apt that she be here now to help you in a similar way.”

 

“Harry’s just a big ball of mush sometimes.”

 

“Also Sameen said if we went with my first choice of avatar you’d never want to leave. She has a very healthy self-image. Though Dr. Thompson would agree with Harold that it can be a bit inappropriate at times.”

 

“Tell her to hold every inappropriate thought,” Root smirked. “I’ll be home soon.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

Root’s footsteps echoed against the black and white linoleum tiled floor. A cell phone was ringing. She turned the corner. The hallway was littered with bodies. A security guard was lying on the ground a few feet from her. A doctor was in a similar condition just to his side.

 

Take the gun from the guard, the phone from the doctor.

 

She knew this. She’d lived this. More importantly she knew she was getting the hell out of here this time and going on to something far greater than she could have ever imagined the first time around.

 

Gun and spare clip from the guard. She made sure there’s a round in the chamber. Then to the phone. Everything played out as it had when she had done all this the first time. She found the doctor’s phone and slid the earpiece into her right ear.

 

“Well, hello there,” She said for old times’ sake.

 

“I’m kicking your ass when you wake up.”

 

“Sameen?”

 

“Every inch of your ass.”

 

“How are you doing this?”

 

“Skynet is relaying everything I say to you. There’ll be a half second delay...”

 

“So we’re basically having a threesome right now?”

 

“I think part of your brain already got fried,” Shaw drawled. “Can you focus for a second?”

 

“Got all the time in the world for you, Darlin.”

 

“Listen things won’t go down exactly the same way as before. This thing doesn’t want to let you go.”

 

“Please, I’ve done this once already.” She pointed the gun down the hallway where she knew Hersh was about to appear. “Pardon me.” She began to fire.

 

Sure enough Hersh sprinted past the glass doorway as it shattered and went for cover. Root was almost finished unloading the clip when another man appeared and opened fire. She barely made it to safety as he laid down covering fire so Hersh could step through the doorway. Root fired the last two rounds in the clip. Soon another man joined the first and opened fire so he could follow Hersh.

 

When the smoke cleared there were five more men with Hersh. Four in full tactical gear including helmets and facemasks and one vaguely familiar looking man with red hair. “Well, this is new.”

 

“I tried to tell you but someone was too busy joking about threesomes.”

 

“What do you expect me to say when my two favorite girls are literally inside me?” Root ejected the empty clip and reloaded the gun. Hersh and the men pressed forward. She leaned out of cover for a moment and fired. There was a shout. “One down.”

 

“Five to go.”

 

“Is Hersh going to try and sneak up on me again?”

 

“Looks like.”

 

Root extended her arm, pointing the gun behind her and pulled the trigger. She heard a grunt as Hersh fell. “Ah memories.”

 

“Double tap the bastard and let’s go.”

 

Root tilted her head in thought. “She stopped me last time.”

 

“Well, it’s a green light today.”

 

“Oh goodie,” Root spun to face Hersh and fired one round. He cried out again and went limp. “That’s pretty satisfying, not going to lie.”

 

“System confirms, Hersh is down. Why aren’t you waking up?”

 

“You’d know better than I, Sam. I didn’t even realize it was nap time for how long?”

 

“You don’t want to know.”

 

Root peered around the corner. “I still have four hostiles.” She fired once. “Three hostiles.”

 

“The ginger bastard.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Finch thinks you have to take off brand Van Gogh out to trigger your release.”

 

“One dead post-impressionist coming right up.” Root leaned around the corner only to be met with more gunfire. She popped back behind the wall. “Do I get bonus points if I take off his ear first?”

 

“Just get it done, Nerd.”

 

Root exchanged fire with the remaining men for a few minutes. “This isn’t exactly working.”

 

“You winged one of them on that last pass.”

 

“So you’re saying I should try to graze the others and simply wait for them to bleed to death?” She fired another shot. Root tilted her head, by her count she had one bullet left. “If I shout out the Konami code, can I get more ammo?”

 

“No.” It was almost like Root could hear the eye roll in Shaw’s voice.

 

“Can She or Harry program more bullets for my gun?”

 

“Apparently they’re busy making sure the rest of your new playmates can’t circle around you like Hersh did.”

 

“That does make things more challenging.” Root scanned her surroundings for anything useful. Unfortunately, this recreation was historically accurate as far as the facilities went. There weren’t many weapons allowed in mental institutions. She’d lucked out last time with the guard falling exactly where she needed him so she had a weapon when Hersh came in shooting.

 

BINGO.

 

Root smiled as she caught sight of the second thing she’d need to make her plan work. “So if this goes poorly, I’ll just wake up in my hospital room again right?”

 

“If what goes poorly?”

 

Root leaned out of her cover and shot the fire extinguisher she had noticed down the hallway. A plume of suppressant powder flew into the air, bringing down the visibility in the hallway. Root darted out into the open and went for Hersh’s gun.

 

One of the men stumbled out through the cloud. Root shot him immediately. There were raised voices and more shots, but thankfully all were off target as it was still difficult to see from the opposite end of the hallway.

 

Not wanting to press her luck, Root sprinted back the way she had originally came. “Two to go.”

 

“Nice trick.”

 

“Thanks,” Root replied. “So I know you said that they couldn’t follow the same path as Hersh to get to me, but can I go that way to get to them?”

 

She could indeed. Root swiftly made her way down the hall. Two left turns later and she was facing a security door. “This is new.”

 

“That door saved your ass, don’t complain.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sweetie.” The large wooden door had a very convenient viewing window. She could see her last two attackers discussing something through it. And wouldn’t you know. Harry didn’t program in shatter-proof glass. “Especially as it’s about to do it again.”

 

She took careful aim and fired through the window. Her shot hit the masked agent in the neck. Instant kill. The red head turned and opened fire. Root ducked back down behind the metal cart the orderlies used to hand out medications.

 

“Almost home free, Sweetie.” The masked agents were down. Hersh was down. Just the man with the red hair was left.

 

The door slammed against the wall as he kicked it open. “I believe we have decided to forgo finesse.” Bullets ricocheted around Root’s position. Bits of paint and plaster rained down from the walls.

 

“You need to move.”

 

“No, I don’t.” Root skootched down until she could fit her hand with the gun under the cart. “Is he at ten or two?”

 

“Two.”

 

Root pulled the trigger with a smile on her face. The shot took out his knee. He crashed to the ground, in the process dropping his gun. Root stood up. She kept her gun trained on him as she carefully walked over to him and kicked his gun away.

 

Root looked him in the eye as she stood over him. “Did you really think they would abandon me?” This time no voice called out to stop her from pulling the trigger.

 

Suddenly, there was something covering her eyes. She reached up and shoved some kind of mask from her face. Root blinked against the harsh fluorescent light shining into her eyes. “Did I wake up?”

 

“What do you think?” Shaw asked as she leaned over the bed.

 

“There she is,” Root smiled. “I can see why you didn’t recommend this process.”

 

“Yeah, well you got the low rent version.”

 

“You know,” Root licked her dry lips. “Sleeping Beauty got a kiss when she woke up.”

 

Shaw leaned back and looked at something across the room that Root couldn’t see from her prone position. “Her brain’s fine boys. Only took thirty seconds to proposition me.”

 


	10. The Howling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay so last chapter went over better than I thought it would. So of course since you all enjoyed that sort of story so much, I am completely shifting from the slightly angsty action of that chapter to whatever the heck this is.

 

 

I am awoken today by the Tiny Fluffy One jumping on me in greeting. He has done this often since he was made pack. I like him even though he is odd. After we say our good mornings I go into the kitchen for a drink of water. My dish is empty. The others have not left the apartment while I was sleeping or there would be food.

 

That is good. I worry when they leave before I wake up and I do not know what is going on. I drink my fill from the water dispenser and then go back into the other room. My bed is still warm when I lay down again.

 

The Tiny Fluffy One has taken up his usual watch position. He tells me that the sky is gray and the winds are blowing. The window sill will not be a good place for napping today. 

 

My ears perk up as I hear the doorway down the hall opening. I stand up and walk back towards the kitchen. Soon I see The Small One. “Hey, Handsome,” She greets me with a pat on the head.

 

The Small One is an Alpha though she chooses to run with our pack. “Let’s get you boys breakfast huh?”

 

Yes, I voice my agreement, breakfast is good. The Tiny Fluffy One comes into the kitchen to agree as well.

 

“Yeah, I know I’m running late today. It’s Root’s fault as usual.” Her tone is gruff but I know she is not really angry at The Lonely One. They are mates. The Tiny Fluffy One looks at me with narrowed eyes. She does not fool him either.

 

Soon our bowls are full and The Tiny Fluffy One and I begin our breakfast. I hear The Small One rummaging around in the cupboards. She is probably about to make her own meal.

 

I am halfway done when I hear footsteps in the hall. I step away from my bowl and go to look. The Lonely One is awake. Her hair is damp; she must have just had a bath. I wonder how The Small One managed to keep her in the tub so long without being in there? I always hop out of the tub as fast as I can. I like to swim but I do not like baths.

 

“Well good morning.”

 

The Lonely One comes and gives me a belly rub. I soak up the attention for a bit before going to finish my breakfast. The Lonely One follows. Once in the kitchen she goes and begins to rub The Small One’s belly. “If you make me burn the bacon I swear to god.”

 

“Sorry, I’m just in a really good mood this morning for some reason.”

 

“I gave you multiple reasons.”

 

“You sure did, Sweetie.”

 

I like watching them together. They are happy. To see them makes me happy. The Lonely One winks at me and then goes to sit down at the table. The Tiny Fuzzy one ambles over to her to give his own greetings. We are pack and it is good.

 

At first I did not trust her. The Clever One was afraid of her so I thought that meant she was bad. But after some time passed I realized that she wanted a pack. The others couldn’t smell that she was wounded and scared and that was why she lashed out. She needed a pack to care for and to care for her. I decided we should look after her. The Small One caught on first. She began to talk to The Lonely One when she brought her food in the kennel. When The Lonely One was freed, the others spoke with her more. The Small One the most though.

 

There was a time when I did not see them for many months. I watched over The Clever One during that time. He could not fight like the others so it was my duty to protect him. We both missed our pack even though we had each other. It was a bad time. I think I understood The Lonely One better after that.

 

When we were finally back together again, it was good. The Small One brought me lots of treats. The Lonely One’s eyes were brighter. The Clever One no longer tried to put her in a kennel. But even with all the good things, I could tell my pack was frightened of something.

 

They were right to be afraid.

 

The sadness that had left The Lonely One’s eyes, returned when The Small One went away. I tried to help her as The Small One would want. But I was still afraid The Lonely One would get hurt or one day simply not return. I think she did not know what I did. I knew The Small One would come back. She told me she would and The Small One never lied to me.

 

“Bear,” The Small One knelt down in front of me. “What’s got you thinking so hard, Handsome?”

 

See, she cares for us too much to go away and leave us forever. I lick her chin in thanks.

 

“Everybody wants some action this morning.”

 

“Can you blame us, Sam?”

 

“No, I know I’m hot.”

 

I tilt my head to the side. She did not feel warm. I take a sniff. I do not smell illness on her. Sometimes the others say odd things.

 

The Small One attaches the lead to my collar and we leave the apartment. The Tiny Fluffy One was correct it is windy today. Cold. The Lonely One takes The Small One’s arm as we walk. I like this, this is good.

 

The walk doesn’t take too long. On days like this when we are all together, I wish it would take longer. I say hello to the Noodle Lady as we pass her shop. She always smells like food. She is good.

 

“Getting a slow start today ladies?” The Tall One is here. He was my first friend. He brought me to the pack.

 

“Didn’t realize there was a time clock to punch when saving the hopeless cases of the world, John.”

 

“He’s just jealous, Sweetie.”

 

The Tall One shakes his head and opens the strange door for us. The Short One and I go first. We always go first in case there is danger. We protect the pack.

 

At first I did not like the cave. It smelled odd and there were no windows to let in the sunlight. There were less things to chew on and the floor was cold. But then I realized the cave was a place where we could be a pack again. That made me feel better. Also I made a new friend here.

 

The Metal One sings me a greeting as we reach the bottom of the stairs. I run across the concrete floor to her. I offer my own salutations as is polite and good.

 

“Bear, we don’t bark at the computers,” The Clever One tells me as he steps into view. He does not understand. His ears are not as good as mine so he does not know The Metal One speaks to me.

 

The Metal One is different. She is always around though I cannot always see or smell her. She cannot pet me or give me snacks. But she always speaks to me, includes me. She explains what is going on with the rest of our pack when I am left alone in the cave. She is good.

 

“He’s just saying good morning, Harry.” The Lonely One understands. She talks to The Metal One too. We are alike in that way. “Don’t be rude.”

 

His eyes smile even if his face does not. “Good morning, Bear.” He looks at The Lonely One, “Now that pleasantries have been exchanged, may we get to business?”

 

I go to my bed to grab the squeaky. Business talk always takes a long time. I settle with the squeaky underneath one of the benches. After a while voices come near me, The Tall One and The Small One. It looks like they are getting ready to go out.

 

“You know this guy is probably the perp.”

 

“I’ve been around the kid for days Shaw, and I have to tell you I really don’t think so.”

 

“Oh yeah he’s one of those benevolent drug dealers, sure. I bet he’s all puppies and kittens.”

 

I raise my head. If there are puppies and kittens, I hope I get to help. They move away. I put my head back down. Maybe I’ll nap for a little while, just in case I am needed later.

 

“Come on Bear, wake up.” The Lonely One is beside me. I did fall asleep. She has something in her hand. My police vest! She puts the vest on me. This is good. Clothes means I get to help the pack.

 

We get into a van. She is driving quickly. She begins to smell afraid. That is not good. I look out the window but I do not know where we are. The Metal One must be giving her directions. 

 

She slows the van at a large place. She shoots two men before we even come to a stop. “Let’s go, Bear.” We jump out of the van. There is a gravel lot that crunches under my paws. I see The Tall One next to a big building. He is moving oddly behind a stack of crates.

 

We run. When we get close I realize he was moving oddly because he was fighting another man. He punches him in the face. The other man falls to the ground just as he notices us.

 

“John, where’s Shaw?”

 

“Inside with the number, we got separated in the ambush.” More people come into the lot. He holds up his gun. “I’m out.”

 

“I know,” The Lonely One replies. She holds out a gun.

 

The other people are coming closer. They are angry and start shooting. The Tall One takes the extra gun from The Lonely One and they begin to shoot back.

 

They are busy so I will have to help The Small One myself. I run through the open door behind us. The building is large and filled with many things. I cannot see The Small One. Which way should I go? I put my nose to the ground. Many people, dirt, oil, chemicals…wait there. She went by there. I follow the scent trail.

 

There are drugs in this place. I can smell them even as I track her scent. That is not good. Drugs make people bad. The people who had me before The Tall One found me had lots of drugs. I must go faster.

 

I slide to a stop between two of the shelves. There she is. Why is she on the ground?

 

She is not alone. A man is here. His face is angry and he is yelling at The Small One. She is bleeding. There is a gun in his hand. He hurt The Small One!

 

I will hurt him back.

 

I lunge for the arm holding the gun. His blood tastes funny. I think he has taken some of the drugs. I do not like them or him. Though I will endure anything to keep him from hurting The Small One again. He moves his other arm to hit me but I will not let go. I am stronger than him. I tell him so in a growl.

 

“Drop it or I drop you! Your choice.” The Lonely One is back.

 

He drops his gun. He is not as stupid as I thought. “Bear.”

 

I let go. But I am sure to tell him that I am still watching. If he hurts my pack again I won’t stop at his arm.

 

I do not know if he understands my warning though, as The Lonely One hits him over the head before I finish. I do not blame her for defending her mate. “Sam,” The Lonely One whimpers as she kneels down beside her.

 

She is holding on to a bleeding wound near her belly. I can see she is hurt other places. I move to stand guard; The Lonely One will be distracted now. “The number was the perp. John owes me five bucks.”

 

“You’re a mess.”

 

“Mmm fine,” The Small One says. “Calf is a through and through. Thigh is a graze. Bullet is still in the wound by my hip though.” She blinks slowly. “One of the other idiots took a shot at us while we ran. I hit him and then the number hit me.” Another slow blink. “Been bleeding a while.”

 

“John is coming. Stay here with me.”

 

“I’ll be fine Root. I may pass out in a minute, but I’ll be okay. Get me back to the subway. Get the bullet out. Do not let John do the stitches, Bear could do cleaner work.”

 

I do not know what that means but if she thinks so then I am sure that I could.

 

The Tall One comes around the corner then. When he sees The Small One his eyes go hard. “We need to get her to the van,” The Lonely One tells him.

 

He comes and takes The Small One into his arms. “If I vomit on you it’s nothing personal,” She groans.

 

“Do whatever you have to do, Shaw.”

 

I lead the way. Several men are laying around moaning and bleeding. I ignore them. When the van is in sight The Lonely One rushes past me and opens the back. The Tall One gently places The Small One inside. Her eyes are closed now but I can see she is still breathing.

 

“Take the van. Finch is getting everything ready at the subway. I’ll get Hopkins squared away and handle the cleanup.”

 

I am worried for The Small One but I remain by The Tall One’s side. These men cannot be trusted. He will need backup even with them wounded.

 

The Lonely One nods and goes to the driver’s seat. The Tall One closes the door. The van goes away.

 

The Tall One pulls out his phone. “Lionel, we need you.”

 

The Loud One is funny and he smells like sausages. I like sausages. I like The Loud One. But his Dutch was not good. He is lucky I learned English so quickly because I am a good boy.

 

“Do I want to know?” He asks as soon as he arrives.

 

“Drug buy gone bad, Lionel. Good thing our CI called us in.”

 

“You nut jobs know I can only use that excuse so much?”

 

“I’m sure you can fit one more under your quota.” The Tall One shakes his head. “You can tell them you had to swoop in and save my ass.”

 

“Damn right,” The Loud One grumbles. “You solo on this one or are Lucy and Ethel hanging around to annoy me too?”

 

“There was a problem with the number,” He lets out a breath. “We got separated and…”

 

“Cripes, which one?”

 

“Shaw.”

 

“She gonna be okay?” He smells afraid now.

 

She will, I tell him. She is strong.

 

The Tall One smiles down at me. “You heard Bear. She’ll be fine.”

 

The cave is quiet when we return. I admit I worry for a moment before The Metal One greets me. She says that everything will be fine. The Tall One turns at the bottom of the stairs and walks towards a little used corner of the big space. I follow him.

 

“Ms.Gro…Root, why don’t you go home and get some rest? I can look after Ms. Shaw.”

 

“I’m fine right here, Harry.”

 

“You must look after yourself as well.”

 

“I can do that right here.”

 

“Let her be, Finch,” The Tall One says letting them know we are here. I go to stand beside The Lonely One. The Small One is resting in bed. She looks pale and she is hooked up to some tubes. The air still smells like blood. I do not like this.

 

“I am merely concerned for her wellbeing. Seeing Ms. Shaw injured like this…”

 

“I’m not going to snap and go all psycho, Harry.”

 

“I was not trying to imply…”

 

“Finch, give it a rest.”

 

“I don’t need you to be my knight in wrinkled armor, Lurch.”

 

The Tall One holds out his hands. “I was just trying to help.

 

She is scared but she is acting angry. “I think you’ve helped me enough today.”

 

“Root.”

 

“What?”

 

“How about we all take a moment to calm down?”

 

“How about all of you shut up and let me sleep?” The Small One’s eyes are open. “Bad enough I bled all over my favorite hoodie, but I have to listen to you losers moaning about everything when I’m the one that got shot.”

 

“Sam!” The Lonely One leans over the bed. I think she is smelling The Small One…or licking her. It’s hard to tell. There is definitely nuzzling.

 

“It’s good to see you awake, Ms. Shaw.”

 

“You should know by now that a little bullet wound wouldn’t have me down long.”

 

“Of course.”

 

The Tall One clears his throat. “Shaw I…”

 

“Save it for when you come back with food,” She interrupts him. “Lots of food. I’m starving.”

 

“Sure,” He grins. He and The Clever One step away.

 

“Sam,” The Lonely One sniffs.

 

“I’m good Root.” She pats her back. “You didn’t let John butcher my stitches right?”

 

“I took care of it myself.”

 

“Not Bear?”

 

“He had to stay and watch the helper monkey’s back.”

 

“He’s good at that.” The Small One lowered her arm past the rails on the bed. I pad over to stand in her reach. She strokes my ears. “Thanks for saving my ass, Handsome.”

 

We are pack and it is good.


	11. House On Haunted Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what is Shaw up to?

 

 

Root woke up alone. “Shaw?” She called out. There was no response. A bit of movement caught her eye. She turned her head to see Beretta sneak through the door. The cat hopped up on to the bed and slinked over to her. “Are you the only one home?” The cat butted against her chin.

 

“Is that a yes or a feed me woman?”

 

A buzz in her implant let her know that Shaw had been called away early on a mission, and that she had already fed Beretta. “But she’s still not back to one hundred percent.” Quite a bit from it actually. Shaw couldn’t do any heavy lifting nor could she run very far at the moment.

 

“Asset Shaw’s role today is not taxing,” The Machine tried to reassure her.

 

“Not taxing by normal standards or by her standards?” Root asked as she stood from the bed. Because there was a huge difference between the two.

 

“Monitoring her heart rate and blood pressure. All are within normal parameters.”

 

“I’d rather see that for myself.” Root stepped into the bathroom and went to turn on the shower. She held her hand under the spray before stepping in. A habit born of necessity since sharing quarters with Sameen. She tended to like her showers just this side of scalding. “Where is she? I’ll swing by on my way to the subway.”

 

“Her location is classified.”

 

Root frowned. “Even from me?” That was highly unusual these days.

 

“Danger is nominal. However, mission is of great importance. She cannot be disturbed.”

 

“Are you accusing me of being a distraction?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Fine,” Root huffed as she stepped under the spray to wet her hair. Seeing as she was doing it alone, her shower was brief, utilitarian. Soon, she stepped back into the bathroom proper and wrapped herself in a towel. She snagged another one to dry her hair. She idly noted that the faucet was dripping again.

 

“Save the world on the regular, still have to deal with bad plumbing.”

 

“Three reputable plumbing services are within a four block radius?”

 

“No,” Root shook her head. “Sameen can fix that much.” It was simply a matter of when she’d have time to get around to it. Root was, of course, still banned from any plumbing related activities. “You break off a showerhead one time…” She grumbled.

 

She went into the bedroom to get dressed. Since there was no job on the horizon she opted for simple, comfortable clothes. Dark skinny jeans, a soft, black long sleeved shirt. She padded out of the bedroom in her socked feet.

 

When she reached the kitchen, Root noticed there was a fresh pot of coffee brewed. Shaw must have reset it after she got her morning fix. She poured herself a cup as she contemplated her next move. If The Machine wouldn’t tell her where Shaw had run off to, then she’d just have to figure it out on her own.

 

First things first. She opened the fridge. A quick scan and mental inventory told her that none of the weaponry was out of place or missing. She thought back to the bedroom. The top of the nightstand on the left side of the bed was empty.

 

Root tilted her head. It appeared that Shaw had only taken her Nano and a knife with her this morning. That would sort of lend credence to Her claim that the mission Shaw was working on was a minor one. “Or,” Root clicked her tongue against her teeth, “She made another stop.”

 

The subway it was.

 

Destination decided upon, Root walked to the hallway closet to grab a jacket. “Not the green,” The Machine informed her just as her fingertips brushed against one garment.

 

“Oh?” She didn’t typically hand out fashion tips unless they were somehow mission related. “You have a better suggestion?”

 

“Third from the left,” The Machine instructed.

 

Root smiled. That jacket was an old favorite of hers. “You’re the boss.” She didn’t know why She was being so adamant about it, but it was no hardship on Root’s part to wear it. “Any requests as far as footwear?”

 

“No.” After a beat. “Perhaps, boots.”

 

“Boots it is.” She dug one of her favorite pairs out from the back of the closet. They had a lower heel so she didn’t tower so much over Shaw when she wore them. Made kissing so much easier.

 

Root tilted her head in thought. Though Sameen was adorable when she had to pop up on her toes and stretch to reach.

 

The trip to the station didn’t take long. It was after the morning rush and the streets while always bustling, weren’t overly crowded. Soon she was keying in the combination on the touchpad of the vending machine doorway.

 

“Good morning, Harry,” She called out when she caught sight of him working in the subway car.

 

“Good morning,” He called out in reply, though he didn’t turn around. “Getting a late start today.”

 

“Compared to some,” She absently nodded. She was much more focused on the screens in front of him. Three seemed to be compiling a rather intriguing bit of code, while the fourth looked like a bird’s eye view of the bus station. Neither appeared to have anything to tell her about Shaw’s whereabouts today.

 

“Speaking of,” She finally focused on him. “Do you know what mischief that girl of mine has gotten herself into today?”

 

Finch turned in his seat to look at her. “I was told Ms. Shaw’s mission today was classified. I assumed she was working on a relevant threat with you.” They did still receive relevant numbers from time to time, even though The Machine had created its own teams to handle most of such cases in the absence of a dedicated governmental entity.

 

“Nope,” Root tucked her hands inside her pockets. “Apparently, both of my girls are keeping secrets from me today.”

 

“I wouldn’t concern myself too much over it,” Finch replied gently. “The Machine is well aware of what would happen should any harm befall Ms. Shaw.”

 

She scrunched her nose at him. “You mean she knows I’d get a little bonkers?”

 

“I would have opted for something more along the lines of unhinged, or the less charitable murderous, but yes.”

 

Like he hadn’t been Mr. Kill ‘Em All when Grace had been the one in danger, Root mentally scoffed. Sometimes the rod in Harry’s own eye made him so utterly blind to certain realities. Well, she wasn’t in the mood to argue with him about it today. “Love can make the best of people do crazy things, and then you have me,” Root shrugged. “She told me whatever Shaw is working on isn’t dangerous. I believe that.”

 

“But you don’t like being left out of secrets.”

 

“Telling me something is classified is basically waving a red flag at a bull,” She nodded.

 

“If you need something to occupy your mind until Ms. Shaw returns, I could use a hand with breaking these encryptions.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Reese’s current number is quite gifted. So much so that his work is even giving me fits.”

 

Root smirked, “Harold Finch stumped by the work of a teenage boy? Now this I must see for myself.”

 

“Jamal has a true talent. Should we be able to shepherd him out of his current circumstance in one piece I do believe Thornhill Industries will be putting together a scholarship for him.”

 

“You’re such a softie, Harry.”

 

“Talent should be nurtured, encouraged. Especially, talent that could be abused.”

 

“Ah there’s the barb.” She rocked back and forth on her heels.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Only that even when you’re at your most marshmallow-y soft, you still can’t help yourself but to be wary of everyone.”

 

He went a little red in the cheeks. “In my experience I’ve been right to be wary.”

 

“Oh Harry, I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

 

“And yet here we are,” He grumbled.

 

So much for not arguing with him today. In for a penny… “You have to admit that it takes you a great deal of time to trust anyone. You still look at Sameen like she’s two seconds away from stabbing someone whenever we’re in public.”

 

“You have to admit that Ms. Shaw can be volatile.”

 

“And you have to admit that she doesn’t just go about stabbing people willy nilly while waiting in line for coffee.”

 

“Well, no,” He conceded. “But that’s also a gross exaggeration.”

 

“Sameen may be a sociopath but she doesn’t hurt people without cause. You’ve watched her work with enough numbers to know that is a fact by now.”

 

“I trust Ms. Shaw to do her job.”

 

“We’re not talking about that. These days you even trust me to do my job.” Finch began to sputter. But Root forged ahead, “I mean personally. Even after all this time you’re still wary. The only one of us you remotely let your guard down with is John.”

 

“Is that jealousy I detect?”

 

“Not anymore.” She shrugged. There was a time that she was highly jealous that Finch had chosen someone like John Reese to be his partner over her. Those days seemed so long ago now. And she wouldn’t trade what she had gained instead for anything. “I know my place in the world. I know my role, even if you don’t.”

 

“To be honest,” He cleared his throat. “I find myself jealous of your certainty at times.”

 

“Maybe you’d find some certainty if you allowed yourself to let go a little bit?”

 

He chuckled ruefully, “I don’t think I know how to do that.”

 

“You created and then helped to rebuild God. I’m sure you can do anything if you really put your mind to it.”

 

“Perhaps,” He nodded. “For now I’d settle for cracking this code.”

 

Root knew a call for a ceasefire when she saw one. “Send a portion of the code to desktop station. I’ll see what I can do.”

 

The pair worked mostly in silence for the next few hours. Occasionally, Root would inquire about Shaw’s whereabouts to The Machine. She continued to be told that while Shaw was fine, her mission and location remained classified.

 

Root raised her head when she heard the stairwell door opening. Soon heavy footsteps and the clack of nails followed. Root’s face screwed up in confusion as Reese and Bear came into view. She stood up from the desk and met them just beside the train car. “Why do you have Bear?”

 

“Shaw dropped him off with me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She didn’t exactly go into details, Root.”

 

“Well, did you ask for any?”

 

“No,” He looked confused. “Why would I?”

 

“Why would you?” Root sputtered. She began to mumble under her breath, the words useless and idiot popping up frequently.

 

Finch decided to take pity on Reese. “It seems Ms. Shaw’s activities for the day are something of a mystery.”

 

“Ah.” That at least explained Root’s current tirade. He hadn’t asked any questions when Shaw had left Bear with him, because frankly he figured she was working a job with Root. Obviously that wasn’t the case. But maybe he could offer Root something, “She looked like she was dressed for some undercover work.”

 

Root whipped around to glare at him. “Explain.”

 

“Pantsuit, black. Heels.” He cocked his head to the side, “Basically, she was either an about to go to court, or to a funeral, that sort of look.”

 

“Based on that description, it would follow that Ms. Shaw is functioning in some sort of professional environment. Information gathering perhaps?”

 

“But for what?” Reese crossed his arms as he leaned in the doorway of the subway car. “I put Jamal on a bus going south so he could go and live with his grandmother, an hour ago. Lionel is booking Chang and his boys as we speak. So unless she gave us another number…”

 

“She hasn’t given us anything.” Finch stressed the us. “But appears Ms. Shaw has received a task of some form.”

 

“And She’s not telling,” Root grumbled.

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Reese said. “Shaw’s been going stir crazy not being able to go on any missions lately. The Machine probably just gave her some busywork to keep her from spawning a few numbers on her own.”

 

“Since when does God do busywork?”

 

“It’s not a…”

 

“Let it go, Finch.”

 

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, Ms. Grov…” He shook his head. “As Root and I were discussing earlier, letting go is not my strong suit.”

 

She smirked, “Elsa, he’s not.”

 

Reese chuckled at the mental picture of Finch in a dress. Then he scowled as he realized that he would be that little snowman in this analogy. “Err, well.”

 

“You forget how to use your words today, Lurch?”

 

Reese narrowed his eyes at her. “Back to my original point, I’m sure Shaw is fine and will let you know what she’s up to eventually.”

 

“I guess I just have to keep from going stir crazy in the interim.”

 

Finch was about to offer a suggestion when the screens flashed. He glanced over at Root to see that her head was tipped to the side in the manner that signaled that she was listening to The Machine. After a moment, the printer next to his desk began to spit out documents.

 

“We have a new number boys,” Root announced. “And she tells me it’s an emergent one.”

 

“Should I pack some extra party favors?”

 

Root nodded at him. “She suggests the .308 you took off that hitman last week.” She frowned. “You played with a hitman without me?”

 

“You and Shaw were working a job in Yonkers that day.”

 

Her eyes went a little glassy for a moment. Root cleared her throat. “Right, yes. Well, toddle along and collect your gun so we can get going.”

 

“We?”

 

“Did you miss the bit about it being an emergent situation?” She shook her head. “Things are getting messy quickly. She says this job is going to take the both of us and we need to get on with it.” Reese went and quickly collected the proper gun from the weapons locker.

 

“Do be careful,” Finch called out to them as they were leaving.

 

The situation turned out to be relatively straightforward. Rich boy met girl. Married girl. Girl had another boy on the side. Girl and bonus boy got caught. Rich boy went and got a hitman to get rid of them both.

 

Reese and the .308 took care of said hitman. Root, meanwhile, dealt with the unhappy couple. “This is why god invented prenuptial agreements, Barry.” The husband had grumbled something about lying whores and so Root had shot him in the knee. “Maybe that mouth of yours is why she opted to cheat?”

 

Root still hadn’t heard from Shaw by the time they had wrapped everything up. She was following Reese back down into the subway with subdued steps when there was another buzz in her implant. “Really?” She asked aloud. Reese turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

 

“Another number?”

 

“Apparently so,” She nodded.

 

“You need me on this one too?”

 

“She says I can handle it on my own.” She turned to go back up to the street. “If you hear from Sameen?”

 

“I’ll be sure to let her know how much not knowing what she’s up to today has been annoying you and for her to keep it up.”

 

“Rude.”

 

“Don’t let it distract you too much out there.”

 

“Awe you do care.”

 

“About Shaw. She gets extra grumpy every time you manage to wander into the path of a bullet.”

 

“If you’ll recall she’s the one with the most recent bullet wounds.”

 

Reese shook his head. “Get going.”

 

“Later, Lurch.”

 

The Machine told her to pick up a car and then proceeded to give Root turn by turn instructions. After about forty-five minutes, she pulled to a stop at the end of what appeared to be a quiet, residential block. “Where to now?”

 

“Last house on the left.”

 

“Anything in particular I should know going in?” Root asked as she unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the car.

 

“The property was formerly owned by a Dr. Vincent Loren. He and his wife shared the home until she died under mysterious circumstances. She was found at the base of the stairs one morning by the help. It was thought that Dr. Loren was involved somehow, but he was never charged. After the doctor died, the house reverted to his only heir, a daughter Bridgette Loren. She held on to the place as a vacation property for when she visited the east coast. She passed away last year. The property has been vacant since, partially due to rumors the place is haunted.”

 

A few dried leaves crunched under Root’s feet as she drew closer to the front steps. “Until my newest number decided to move in?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“So you want me to just walk right in? No cover?”

 

“None needed,” The Machine replied. “The door is unlocked.”

 

Root shrugged and marched up the stairs. Sure enough when she tried the knob the front door opened for her. She stepped into a small entryway. There were open doorways to the left and the right. Immediately in front of her was a small hallway and a set of stairs.

 

“Left,” The Machine told her before she could ask.

 

“Left it is,” Root walked through the entryway into what was once a small living area. The furniture was covered in dingy looking drop cloths. The walls were partially covered in dark wainscoting with mustard yellow paint on the upper half. Yikes. “You weren’t kidding about this place being vacant for a while.”

 

“Pretty sure the decorator died before disco,” A voice remarked from further into the room.

 

“Sameen?” Root squeaked in surprise. She turned to the left to see Shaw sitting in a high backed, leather winged chair. “She called you in for this one too?”

 

Shaw stood up. “Actually, I had her call you.”

 

“Why? Is something wrong? Are you hurt?” Root rushed forward into the room, dread pooling in her belly.

 

Shaw held up a hand to get her to calm down. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

 

“Then why did you have her call me for backup?”

 

“I said I had her call you.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Isn’t that what she had just said? “You had her call me up to what? Hang out?”

 

Shaw nodded. “I wanted you to meet me here.”

 

“But she said you were working a mission today.”

 

“I was.”

 

“I’m not really following, Sweetie.”

 

“It was personal,” Shaw elaborated. “I was doing something for us.”

 

Root was still lost. “She told me a number moved into this place.”

 

“Not a number, and we haven’t exactly moved in yet.”

 

“We?”

 

“Did you take a knock to the head again? You seem to be having trouble hearing what I’m saying.”

 

“I’m hearing you just fine,” Root countered. “You’re just not making any sense.”

 

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed out a long breath. “Okay, let me try this again.”

 

“Please do.”

 

“There is no number. I spent my day, with a little help from your other girlfriend, making the final arrangements to buy this place.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Oh I was thinking I’d fill it full of jello and charge admission…” Shaw scowled, “Why do people normally buy houses?”

 

Root gasped. “You’re moving out of the apartment?” She scrambled to think of what she could have done to make Shaw fell like she needed to move out and how she could fix it.

 

“No.” Shaw held up a finger, “We are moving in. Together. If you want.”

 

Wait, move in, what? “You want us to move in here?” She asked to make sure she had heard correctly. “Together?”

 

Shaw shrugged, “Like I said, if you want.”

 

“How?” The place was old, but it was large and the neighborhood was becoming trendy. Even Harry would probably wince at the price tag it was sure to bring on the open market. The Machine made sure they were taken care of seeing as Shaw had ditched her day job from hell and Root had never had an actual day job, but still they didn’t have that much cash laying around.

 

“You remember the idiot that shot me?” Shaw gestured to her still healing side.

 

How could Root forget him? She nodded.

 

“Well, Reese went to check out his place after the fact.” Mainly to make sure Root didn’t booby trap it. “Found keys to a storage locker. Optimus Prime told him to give them to me. And guess what I found when I went over there, just laying around in neat, little bundles of hundreds?”

 

“Wait, The Machine helped you steal money from a drug dealer so you could buy a townhouse?”

 

“No,” Shaw shook her head. “That was only enough for a down payment. Though the whole possibly haunted thing did get us a hell of a markdown. She raided a few former Decima slush funds for the rest. Figured, I was owed for damages.”

 

“And you used it to buy this place? For us to move into together?” Root tilted her head, her face screwed up in confusion, “But we already live together.”

 

“In one of Finch’s safe houses we started squatting in like a couple of hobos. I think we should have a place that’s ours. Just ours.”

 

“You want that with me?”

 

“No, I was talking to your other girlfriend. Be a good little interface and let her know?”

 

“Sam, I’m serious.”

 

“So am I.” Shaw let out a breath. Then she squared her shoulders as if she were getting ready for a scrap. When she looked back up at Root there was something in her eyes, a determination that she didn’t think she’d ever seen there before.

 

“I want to do this with you. Not because we fell into it. Not because its convenient. But because it’s my choice to be here, with you. Even when you stack computer parts all over the place. Even when you use my guns. Even when you do stupid shit like running off to cover a mission on your own to protect me.” She made air quotes when she said protect me. It was still a sore spot. “Even when I go off and get shot because John is far too trusting when it comes to some punk kid’s sob story.”

 

Shaw took a step forward. “I want to make the choice to go through all that crap with you. So yeah I bought this place with a bunch of stolen cash.”

 

“Sameen, I…”

 

“I can’t give you everything someone else might.” She held up a hand to cut off Root’s impending protest. “I can’t say things you deserve to hear. But I can be here with you.”

 

“Sam…”

 

Shaw kept right on going. “I can do this. I can give you this. More than that, I want to give you this. So just take it…”

 

“Shut up.”

 

She jerked back as if Root had tried to punch her in the face. “Excuse me?”

 

“Just shut up for a second, because for the first time in our entire relationship, you are talking way too much.” Shaw gaped at her. Root smiled, “I want a room for all my computers.”

 

Shaw’s eyes narrowed, as if she was expecting a trick of some kind. “O-kay.”

 

“And this place needs a refresh.” She pointed at the wall behind Shaw, “Mustard yellow is fine on a hot dog but not so much for décor.”

 

“Says the woman who owns a lava lamp.”

 

“Is it yellow?”

 

“Fine,” Shaw rolled her eyes, “Pretty sure they haven’t redecorated since 1972, was going to suggest it anyway.”

 

Root nodded. Whether to herself or to Shaw, she wasn’t sure. Probably both if she was being honest. “I choose to go through all that crap with you too.”

 

“Yeah?” Shaw’s posture became much more relaxed.

 

“Like I was ever going to tell you no.” Root smirked, “Were you worried? That’s so sweet.”

 

“I don’t do worried,” Shaw scoffed. “But if I was the type to get worried,” She held up a finger, “Huge if. It would be of you blubbering all over yourself about all this.”

 

That was still a distinct possibility. “I reserve the right to get teary later once the reality of this occasion fully sinks in.”

 

“There are four bedrooms and three and a half baths, pick one I’m not in at the time when you do.”

 

“Pretty sure living here with me includes during bouts of weepiness.”

 

“I take it back.”

 

“No,” Root shook her head as she stepped into Shaw’s personal space. “No take backs.”

 

“No take backs,” Shaw parroted. She looked up at Root with a smirk, “What are you, twelve?”

 

She slipped her hands on to Shaw’s hips. “I was thinking somewhere more along the lines of NC-17, actually.”

 

“Oh,” Shaw stepped back. “Come with me.”

 

Right here, right now if Root had anything to say about it. She bet this horrible furniture hadn’t had a proper defiling in decades. “That’s the plan, Sweetie.”

 

“Upstairs, Nerd.”

 

Oh now that would simply take far too long. “As much as I’d like a tour, I have other plans right now.”

 

“Trust me.”

 

There was a promise of something in Shaw’s tone that made her decide to fold, however. “Always,” Root smiled. She reached out and took Shaw’s hand. To her surprise, the other woman allowed it.

 

“Sap.”

 

“You really should jot all these romantic bon mots down somewhere, Sam. We could retire off of a book of them.”

 

“Stop talking,” Shaw barked as she tugged her out of the room, and they started up the stairs.

 

“I’m serious, the public needs your wisdom.” Shaw didn’t say anything in reply. But she did give Root’s hand a squeeze just this side of painful.

 

They stopped at a door on the third floor landing. There wasn’t much around the space to give anything away to Root’s inquisitive gaze as to why Shaw just had to come up here right away. She did note that the walls up here were actually white instead of any other lunch-time inspired colors from the past.

 

Shaw turned to face her with her hand resting on the doorknob. “So don’t make a big thing out of this.”

 

“If there’s some 70s era sex dungeon behind that door, I am absolutely going to make a big thing of it.” She snorted. “Although, if it is a sex dungeon, there’s probably a big thing or two in there already.”

 

“Is that your unsubtle way of asking for a sex dungeon?”

 

“Well, now that you mention it, you did say there were four bedrooms,” Root drawled.

 

Shaw shook her head as she twisted the doorknob. “Let’s just see if you like this bedroom first.” She waved for Root to go in ahead of her.

 

Her steps brought her through the door and just to the edge of what the light from the hallway illuminated when Shaw flipped the light switch and fully revealed the room. It was big. Root would have to guess it took up most of this floor. The walls were a pale blue. There were large windows spanning the far wall. The floors were hardwood, polished to a near mirror finish.

 

There was a huge bed on the wall opposite of the door. The frame was black, some kind of metal, so sturdy. The bed linens were a combo of purples and greys. It’d be a bit like sleeping in a thundercloud. Her eyes strayed over to Shaw. With her own personal thundercloud. Root couldn’t wait for the rumble and crack.

 

“How is it that this room isn’t a nightmare?”

 

“The guy I bought the place from had been trying to renovate it. He ran out of cash after this floor.” Shaw shrugged. “Obviously, the rest of the place needs work, but this master suite is good to go.” Shaw pointed to a door on the wall opposite the one with the windows. “Bathroom is through there. Full shower, soaking tub. Two sinks so I don’t get stabbed by your boney elbows anymore in the mornings.”

 

She gestured towards the obscenely large bed. “The Go-bot handled the furniture order. Said something about your browsing habits?”

 

Root grinned, “I was an interior designer for about a month around a hundred lives ago. I guess some of it stuck.”

 

Shaw took off her blazer and tossed it onto the padded bench at the foot of the bed. Root licked her lips. Oh that particular piece of furniture was going to be well used if she has anything to say about it.

 

“I can’t believe you did this.”

 

“Is that an I hate it or a you did a fabulous job?”

 

Root sauntered over to her and hooked her fingers into her belt loops. “What do you think?”

 

“I think we should do whatever it was you were thinking of doing when we were downstairs.” She leaned up and took Root’s bottom lip between her teeth.

 

She moaned and opened her mouth to Shaw, who for her part reached up and shoved the coat from Root’s shoulders. It hit the ground with a thump. She stepped over it as she led Shaw back towards the side of the bed. Shaw’s fingers began to tug her shirt from her jeans. When she pulled back for a second to adjust the angle of their kiss and take a breath, Shaw pulled the shirt up and over her head.

 

The back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. She smiled and brought Shaw close again for another deep kiss. When she was suitably distracted, Root fell on to the bed on her back and she pulled Shaw along for the ride. She caught herself with her hands on either side of Root’s head before she could land on her chest. She didn’t think there will ever be a day when Shaw’s strength isn’t a major turn on for her. Root slid a hand down over her shoulder and forward to cup her breast to show her appreciation.

 

“You know that would have been better if you had given me two seconds to take off my shirt.”

 

“You know that you’re wasting what little time I’m going to allow you to be on top tonight.”

 

“Let?” Shaw snorted. “Sure, you let me top.”

 

Root nuzzled the skin between Shaw’s neck and shoulder. “Just because you’ve been uncharacteristically sweet to me today, doesn’t mean we’ve completely descended into Bizzaro world.” She nipped the skin under her teeth to punctuate that point.

 

“I top plenty.”

 

Root smiled as she worked the tail of Shaw’s shirt free of her slacks. “Sure you do, Sam.”

 

“Annoying me is not going to get you what you want.”

 

“Lies,” She moved her right hand down and under the shirt to scratch at Shaw’s abs. “It always gets me what I want.”

 

“You want me to be pissed all the time?”

 

“I want you to have that fire in your eyes. I want to hear your breath catch. I want your blood to pump that much faster in your veins. I want your hands to clench.” Root leaned up so that her lips brushed right against Shaw’s ear. “And I want to know that it’s all because of me.”

 

She caught sight of Shaw’s fingers twisting in the sheets out of the corner of her eye and smiled. She’d never cease to get a thrill from getting under her beautiful girl’s skin. Root fell back against the bed and smiled up at her. “Just like that.”

 

Shaw growled and smashed their lips together again.

 

“Why today?” Root asked many hours later.

 

“What?” Shaw sleepily murmured.

 

“Today,” She rolled on to her side and proper her head up on her hand. “Why did you bring me here today?”

 

“Technically, since it’s after midnight now, I did that yesterday,” Shaw blinked at her, “Did you forget what day it was?”

 

The Machine supplied the date for her. “October 29th…” Root’s heart stuttered in her chest. The first time they ran a mission together. It was what Root had jokingly dubbed their anniversary. “Sam, you?”

 

Shaw nodded. “It’s no ambush dinner and zip ties afterwards, but I kind of remember you saying something about doing things a little bigger every year?” She stretched the length of her spine in a way that made the sheet slide down her torso and Root’s mouth start to water all over again. A bit of that must have shown in her eyes, because Shaw smirked and rolled on to her side to face Root fully. “Next year is all you though.”

 

She bit her lip as her eyes roamed Shaw’s body. It was already tattooed in bites and scratches, but Root was overcome with the impulse to leave more. “Can we keep the anniversary tradition of marathon sex alive?”

 

“Was pretty sure we’d already gotten the jump on that bit, yeah.”


	12. Chainsaw Massacre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes saving the world incudes running your own errands.

 

 

Shaw pulled the van to a stop in the parking lot of a massive hardware store. She looked over at Root who was in the passenger seat. “How much time do we have?”

 

“She says that if they hold to pattern, they’ll be off of the grounds for another four hours.” She smiled as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Plenty of time for a little supply run and set up when we get back to the compound.”

 

They had flown in to the area that morning to work a relevant number. Since they had taken a commercial flight, they had been unable to pack what they needed beforehand. Their guns were easy enough to obtain. The Machine always knew of someone willing to make a shady deal, and had prearranged an arsenal of their favorites to be waiting for them in the van that they picked up at the airport.

 

The rest of their materials, however, the girls had to acquire on their own. On Her dime of course. They had discussed what they thought the job would require on the drive from the airport.

 

“How about we divide and conquer? I’ll pick up some bags of concrete mix and the shovels, and you can grab the small stuff.”

 

“You’re still not fully healed. Should you be carrying bags of concrete mix?”

 

“I carried your bony ass up the stairs last night just fine. Trust me, you weigh more than a bag of quikrete.” Barely. Root still needed to eat more in Shaw’s opinion. “And the quikrete doesn’t have those legs flopping around, making my job harder.”

 

“You like my legs flopping around.”

 

“Not so much when they’re dead weight.”

 

“That was your fault.” Root licked her lips at the memory. “If you expect me to go upstairs under my own power, then you should wait until we’re upstairs to do that thing you do with your tongue.”

 

“Which thing?” Shaw smirked. “You know there’s more than one. Maybe you should describe it to me in detail.”

 

Root leaned over the center console and took Shaw’s bottom lip between her teeth. When she let go several, highly enjoyable, minutes later she replied, “You know exactly which one.” She opened her door. “But I’ll definitely talk about it at length with you once this job is done.”

 

Shaw shook her head at her as she climbed out of the van as well. “Tease.”

 

“Don’t worry, Sam.” Root licked her lips, “I fully plan on delivering later.”

 

Shaw nodded to the elderly gentleman serving as the greeter as they made their way into the store. They stopped beside the shopping carts for Root to snag one. “Okay so I’ll head to the garden supplies and meet you back somewhere in the middle?”

 

“Sure thing,” Root replied. She frowned however, when Shaw started to walk away without a cart. “I know you said you’re perfectly fine but don’t you need a cart for that?”

 

“I’m going to get one of those flat bottomed ones from the garden center.”

 

“Oh that makes sense I suppose.”

 

“Of course it does,” Shaw smirked. “It’s my idea.” She started walking away again.

 

Root smiled as she watched Shaw leave. That ass. In those jeans. Definitely no flat bottom there. “Love to watch her leave,” She sighed to herself. But then she noticed the man standing next to the cart corral who was also admiring Sameen’s assets.

 

Now that just wouldn’t do.

 

Root gripped her cart and gave it a good shove. Right into the admirer’s legs. His knees buckled and he went toppling face first into a display bin of shop towels. “Oops, sorry!” She called out. Two orange vested employees rushed forward to pull the man from the bin. “I have no idea how…it just rolled away from me.”

 

She went over and collected the cart. “I’m just so clumsy,” Root shrugged as she walked past them without stopping to help.

 

So the first item on her list: restraints. The Machine handily directed her to aisle fifteen. Root found what she needed easily.

 

“Oh zip ties are buy two get one free.” Root did love a sale. Six packages of those were added to the cart. They could use the extra ones at home. Root skipped down a few more feet. “And now cabling.” She compared a few brands of nylon rope. Would they need fifty feet? One hundred? It was more cost effective if she bought the larger size.

 

“Bigger is better in this instance.”

 

She scooted down to the end of the aisle and made a left turn. The end cap display, two aisles down caught her eye. Root slowed to a stop.

 

Should they get a tarp? She wasn’t planning on dropping any bodies, but they’d probably need a tarp if she did. She tapped a black tipped finger against her chin. They were on sale. She tossed a package into the cart. If it didn’t get used this go round, Root was sure someone in their merry band of miscreants would find a use for it eventually.

 

“What next?” The Machine helpfully directed her to aisle nine where they kept the industrial cleaning supplies and safety gear.

 

“All right, work gloves: two pair.” She found a pair that would fit her hands easily enough, but finding gloves to fit Shaw’s smaller hands and delicate wrists proved to be an issue. Shaw’s presence loomed so large over her life that Root sometimes forgot that her physical presence didn’t really align. Apparently, all the home improvement aficionados in this town had freakishly large hands. Finally, she tossed the largest pair of the child sized gloves into the cart. She’d rip the labels off before handing them over.

 

Root glanced upwards with a smirk. “Do not tell her. She’ll get a complex.”

 

That settled, Root picked up two boxes of latex gloves. Thankfully, they had a smaller adult sized box of those. She had no clue what she would have told Shaw otherwise.

 

The Machine buzzed in her ear, telling her she was routing a phone call to her. “Hello?”

 

“Root, dear.”

 

“Maman!” Root smiled. She adored the fact that Shaw and her mother allowed her to use that term. “Is everything alright?” Typically, they called her. Root had given Shaw’s mother a phone number after their initial introduction, which would route a call to her through various security measures so that it couldn’t be traced on either end, but this was the first time she had used it.

 

“Well, yes technically.”

 

Root tapped her fingers against the handle of the shopping cart. “I don’t like technicalities.”

 

“You’re like my Sameen that way.”

 

Her smile grew bigger at the fond tone. “So why technically?”

 

“Oh, some men came by the house today to install a security system.”

 

Root was well aware of that fact. Seeing as she was the one who sent them. The package was top of the line. 24/7 monitoring by god herself!

 

“I didn’t order a security system.”

 

“Sameen and I did.” Shaw was adamant that if her mother was going to be remotely involved in their lives, then The Machine damn well better be looking out for her. She still had enemies out there. Enemies who would have no qualms about hurting her mother in an attempt to draw her out. She wasn’t going to allow her mother to be left open to the wolves without major backup.

 

“Yes, they informed me of that. But I don’t need a security system.” She clicked her tongue. “Especially not one as expensive looking as this.”

 

“Better to have one and not need it in this instance,” Root breezily replied. “As far as the expense goes, you don’t have to worry about that. The owner of the firm owes us a few favors.” They’d only saved his life a few hundred times. Not that Harry kept count. That would be tacky.

 

“Even then…”

 

“Even then, your daughter owes you a few back birthday presents, don’t you think?” Root stopped the cart for a moment by the paint samples. They were still trying to find a good compromise as to what color to paint the living room at the townhouse. As in Root kept making suggestions, Shaw kept saying that she didn’t care, until Root showed her something and then it was she didn’t care but any color except for that. There had been five ‘except for that’ colors so far.

 

“I should be giving her the security system by that logic. I am still the mother in this case.”

 

Root held up a slip with various shades of green. Hmm. That gave her a couple ideas. “You know if you make her more of those cookies with the pistachios, she’d consider it even.”

 

“I’ve already put the ingredients for a double batch on my shopping list.” Root may have done a fist pump at that news. The pistachio ones were her favorites too. “Though it would help to know when I might be seeing her.”

 

“Oh well, we’re working on a project out of town at the moment.” Root pocketed the slip of green samples to show Shaw later.

 

“Is it dangerous?”

 

“Not any more than usual.” This job really was not that taxing all things considered. Honestly, she was standing here picking out paint samples while chatting on the phone. She’d definitely had more high risk encounters.

 

“But you’re together?”

 

“Yes, ma’am. You know I’ll always look out for her.” Always.

 

“Well, she better look after you right back.”

 

Something warm felt like it was going to burst from Root’s chest at that declaration. “She always does, Maman.” Root chuckled, “Though you do know we’re both fully capable in our own right.”

 

“Of course you are, dear. I just worry about both my girls.” What was it about the women in Shaw’s family and their ability to turn Root’s insides into mush? “Well, I won’t keep bothering you.”

 

“Oh it’s no bother.”

 

“Tell Sameen that we’re going to talk about her spending so much on things like home security systems.”

 

“Maman, I told you…”

 

“I know, but it’s a mother’s prerogative to protest that sort of thing.”

 

“I don’t have much recent experience with it, but I do believe it’s a daughter’s prerogative to take care of her mother?”

 

“Of course,” She agreed. “Just under protest.”

 

Root rolled her eyes. It wasn’t difficult to tell where Shaw got at least a portion of her stubborn nature from. “Fine. When we get back into town we can go to dinner…”

 

“What did I just say about spending money?”

 

“I…”

 

“I’ll make dinner.”

 

Root wasn’t going to argue. She knew Shaw would prefer it. She’d even admit that she had missed her mother’s cooking.

 

“Call me when you girls are through saving the world.”

 

“Will do.”

 

“Goodbye, dear.”

 

“Bye, Maman.”

 

She did a quick mental calculation; they’d been in the store for a while now. Shaw would be looking for her soon, if not already, and now she was a bit behind schedule. She had to pick up the pace.

 

Root pushed the shopping cart down the aisle with one foot like an oversized skateboard. The Machine chimed in occasionally to tell her which aisles to turn down to find the items she was looking for. She hummed along to the background music playing softly from the store’s PA system. “She’s a maniac, maniac, on the floor…”

 

Her next turn took her down the aisle for the hand tools. First she selected a set of bolt cutters. A couple pairs of wire cutters went into the cart next. A set of precision screwdrivers soon followed. Then pliers, both needle nose and channel lock. Root tapped her lip in thought. Was she forgetting anything?

 

Something on a lower rack caught her eye. “A crowbar couldn’t hurt.” Well, it could if used properly. Always handy in a pinch. She picked up two.

 

She pushed the cart to the end of the aisle and turned right. Walked about three feet and turned right again down the next aisle. This one seemed to be where the smaller power tools were kept. Root needed to grab a cordless drill and she’d be just about good to go.

 

Of course the drill she was looking for was on the opposite end from where she was now standing. Root propped her right foot back on the bottom rung of the cart and pushed off with her left. About midway down the aisle an older woman was staring at two boxes in her hands. Root slowed to a stop.

 

She pointed to the Dremel in the woman’s left hand. “Trust me, the mark up for name brand is totally worth it in this case.” Not that Root had ever used the small power tool for its intended purpose.  But she figured that if it worked so well as an implement of torture, then it was probably a damn fine sander.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Root smiled, “Of course ma’am.”

 

She found a mid-range cordless drill that would suit their purposes relatively quickly. Root nodded in satisfaction as she placed it on top of the pile of items in her cart. She picked up two different assortments of bits for it and smiled. All set. The Machine confirmed for her that the drill bits were the last item on their list.

 

There was a loud grinding noise from somewhere else in the store. Root cocked her head to the side. “Was that a chainsaw?”

 

The Machine confirmed that the noise was indeed a chainsaw.

 

Several couples ran past her. Some still pushing their carts. Some in a full out sprint for the doors.

 

“Do I want to know?”

 

The Machine was silent.

 

“I’m taking that as a no and forging ahead anyway.” Root turned and began pushing her cart in the opposite direction of the rushing crowd. Several people gave her odd looks as she pressed on towards what they all apparently were escaping from.

 

The first thing she noticed when she entered the garden section was a flat bottom cart with several bags of concrete mix sitting on it along with two shovels. There was also a pickaxe. Root tilted her head. She didn’t even realize they sold those anymore. That could be fun. She pushed the cart around the corner.

 

Sameen was standing on top of one of the displays. There was a rather large pile of wood shavings around her feet. A bright green chainsaw was in her hands. She gave it a rev. Then Root watched as she explained something to two young men in matching orange vests standing beside the display. Shaw said something else and the men’s heads bobbed up and down as if on springs.

 

Root couldn’t tell if the boys were excited or afraid based on their stupefied looking facial expressions. Shaw revved the chainsaw again and started to cut into a large log that was part of the display. Wood chips flew out in all directions. Some of which rained down on the boys like confetti. The kept staring up at Shaw with wide eyes.

 

Probably both.

 

“I think you’re going to have to wipe all the security camera footage.” It wasn’t like Shaw was doing anything illegal per se. But this was sure to go viral if it got out.

 

Root pushed the cart closer. She passed an elderly couple hiding behind the riding lawnmowers. “She does lumberjacking competitions,” She told them in an attempt to be soothing. “You should see her throw a hatchet.” Their expressions told Root that somehow the thought of Sameen lobbing hatchets around wasn’t very comforting.

 

Oh well she tried.

 

“Sweetie!” Root called out, when she was in front of the display.

 

Shaw looked down at her with a grin. She turned off the chainsaw. “Hey, you get everything?”

 

“I did,” Root nodded towards the cart. “I see you’re going a little off script there.”

 

Shaw glanced at the chainsaw in her hands and then back at Root. “They’re having a sale.”

 


	13. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah here we go, last chapter kids. I hope you all had as much fun with this as I did.

 

 

Shaw adjusted the strap of the golf bag she had slung across her chest. This freaking line was taking forever. You’d think since this thing was by invitation only that security would be able to work everyone through the door in a timely fashion.

 

At least they were inside the building. The weather had finally decided it was October. Weeks of unseasonably warm temperatures and then today everything plummeted. She had only been wearing a lightweight hoodie, not having time to go home or to the subway to change, while working her other number. She’d spent most of the day freezing. “Global warming is a myth my ass.”

 

The man in line in front of her, who was dressed like a skeleton, turned to look at her. “What?” She grunted. The man shook his head and faced forward once again.

 

That’s what she thought.

 

Shaw was in line another ten minutes before she reached the front. When asked, she gave the name The Machine had sent her via text. The bouncer shook his head. “Don’t see you on the list.”

 

Shaw slid the hockey mask she was wearing up and onto the top of her head. “Check it again.” There must have been a bit of murder in her eyes because the guard began to tap frantically at the screen of his tablet.

 

After another minute of hunting and pecking, he visibly relaxed. “Oh right, Ms. Grey. Very sorry, they had you on the VIP list. I was checking the standard admission one.” He pulled a strip of green plastic off of the stand. “Your wrist please?”

 

Shaw cocked an eyebrow. “And that is?”

 

“The wristband lets the staff know that your drinks for the evening are gratis.”

 

She quickly shoved her arm forward. If she had to walk around all night while in costume, even if it was one she picked herself, she was damn well going to take advantage of the drinks policy. Most likely why Skynet put her on that list.

 

Maybe for once she wouldn’t cut and run as soon as the number was wrapped up.

 

Once the wristband was secure, Shaw pulled her mask back on. With a final nod to the guard she made her way up the stairs and in to the hotel’s ballroom. The place was packed.

 

She tapped her ear piece. “I’m in. Where are you guys?”

 

“I’m currently observing our number on the balcony,” Finch replied. The number, Meyers Carpenter, was some tech big wig who had managed to piss off the wrong investors. And he was apparently a bit of a Halloween freak. He threw this party every year.

 

“You need me up there?”

 

“No, his security seems sufficient at the moment and I’m standing watch over the only entrance accessible to the other guests. Our purpose would be best served by coordinating our movements once he moves to the ballroom floor.”

 

“Fine by me.” Maybe she could grab a quick bite before things really got started.

 

“Mr. Reese is by the refreshments table,” Finch informed her. “We concluded that would be the easiest place for you to find.”

 

If that was supposed to offend her, Finch was really slipping. “Good, between saving my idiot of a number and running over here to help you two out with this one, I didn’t have time to grab dinner.”

 

“That wasn’t exactly the point.”

 

“I’m sure, but I think we all know my position on shooting people on an empty stomach.”

 

“And again I must stress that I’d rather you not shoot anyone at all.”

 

“Killjoy.”

 

“I do believe you’re spending far too much time with Root for anyone’s good.”

 

Shaw began to weave her way through the crowd. “You’re probably right about that one.”She dodged an idiot dressed like a banana, who attempted to get her to dance with him. When he tried to put his hands on her for the second time she took his wrist in her hand and twisted. “You keep trying to touch me and I’m going to get the baseball bat out of my bag and make a banana split.”

 

“S-sorry.”

 

“Uh huh.” She shoved the guy away. Shaw turned her eyes towards the balcony. “Seriously, if I have to deal with drunk idiots all night, I need protein.”

 

“Mr. Reese assures me that the refreshments table is fully stocked.”

 

Well, that was good news. She was serious about that snack. Still one thing was sort of bothering her, “Why isn’t he talking?”

 

“There was an issue with his costume.”

 

“One that keeps him from speaking?” What was it a muzzle? Ball gag? She scowled, now that was a mental garden path she had no intention of following. Ever.

 

“One that makes him not want to speak with me. Not that I had anything to do with it.”

 

“You insisted I wear this thing, Finch.”

 

“It’s alive,” Shaw drawled. Finch actually laughed at that. Hmm. “Joke I missed out on?”

 

“You’ll see soon enough I’m sure.” Yep, Finch was definitely hiding something.

 

Reese actually growled in reply, “I will get you for this, Harold.”

 

“I do believe your ire is a bit misdirected in this case.”

 

“Trust me there is plenty to go around.”

 

“It can’t be that bad,” Shaw interrupted their little back and forth. She shook her head as she sidestepped out of the way of a stumbling man dressed as a giant baby. “I mean have you seen what some of these idiots are wearing?”

 

“Ms. Shaw makes an excellent point. Comparatively…”

 

Reese cut him off, “Save it, Finch.”

 

She saw Reese from the back first. His usual black suit was replaced by a moth-eaten morning coat and black pinstriped trousers. A grey wig gave his head a flat appearance. Shaw turned her head to the side. Were those bolts on his neck?

 

This was fucking priceless. She wasn’t even going to complain anymore about having to come along on this stupid job. No way. The fringe benefits of this one were just far too good.

 

She smirked as she came up behind Reese. “You rang?”

 

He turned to glare down at her. “Shaw.”

 

“Are you wearing makeup?” She nearly choked. “I didn’t know you liked the nickname that much, Lurch.”

 

He adjusted his tie. “Your girlfriend has a crap sense of humor.”

 

Typically, Shaw wouldn’t argue that point, but this was pretty fucking hilarious. “Does she? Or is it that you have a crap sense of self-preservation?” Shaw smacked his chest with the back of her hand. “Letting Root pick your outfit? Rookie move, John.”

 

“I thought Harold had picked up the costumes.”

 

Shaw simply shook her head at him. “Why didn’t you just go get something else?” She sure as hell would have.

 

“The suits were delivered to the hotel. The number was already on site,” He grumbled. “We didn’t have the time to leave and get something else.”

 

“That explains the suit, not why you went along with the wig and makeup.”

 

“If he didn’t wear the wig, he wouldn’t be in much of a costume,” Finch cut in.

 

“I would have stolen a bellhop uniform or something. Root is never going to let you live this down.”

 

Reese tightened his jaw. “You’re all going to pay for this.”

 

“Not me,” Shaw turned her attention to the spread of finger foods spread out along the tables behind Reese. “I didn’t have a damn thing to do with that mess.”

 

“I think you’re enjoying it just a little too much.”

 

Now that was true. It was his own fault. “Can you really blame me though?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She rolled her eyes. She was just going to let it go and focus on more important matters. Like these crab cakes. Five of those quickly went on her plate. She tipped her mask back up so she could shove a sixth one into her mouth. Damn that was good.

 

Wait are those mini cheeseburgers over there? She quickly made her way down the table. If she hip checked a pair of zombie cheerleaders along the way, it was simply an accident.

 

“I don’t think they made those with an all you can eat buffet in mind, Shaw,” Reese remarked five minutes later as she was working on her fourth slider.

 

“Like I care.” And this wasn’t even remotely close to all she could eat. She waved half of one of the little burgers in the air. “These are ridiculous. They shouldn’t have made them this good if they didn’t want people to eat them.”

 

Seriously, she had half a mind to dump the rest of the tray into the golf bag for later. And then go back for more crab cakes. She still had to try the shrimp puffs. The caterer was worth every penny.

 

“People are starting to stare.”

 

“Again, like I give a damn.” She glanced at him while she chewed and swallowed. “You sure they’re not just trying to figure out whether or not you’re the real thing?”

 

“You’re not funny.”

 

“True,” She shrugged. “But you in that outfit is funny enough for the both of us.”

 

“How did I know I’d find you two by the food?” A voice called from the crowd.

 

Shaw turned and once again almost choked on her food. “Really?”

 

Fusco ambled over to them. He was sporting a pair of cow print chaps over jeans with a black button down shirt and a black, genuine Stetson perched atop his head. “What?” He grumbled.

 

Reese smirked. “You have some cowboy fantasy we were unaware of Lionel?”

 

“Better yet why did you decide to make us aware of it?” Shaw added.

 

“What’s wrong with dressing like a cowboy?”

 

She picked up another burger. “You mean besides the fact that you’re above the age of nine?”

 

Reese snorted. He picked up one of the burgers himself. Now that someone else was the one being made fun of he could enjoy himself a tiny bit.

 

Fusco tipped back his Stetson to get a better look at Shaw. “What are you supposed to be?”

 

“Casey Jones,” She mumbled around a mouth full of burger.

 

“Who?”

 

“Never mind.”

 

But Fusco wasn’t known for letting things go. He put his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “You look like you knocked over a sporting goods store.”

 

“Well, seeing as I had just wrapped up a job and didn’t know I was going to get called in for a mission that required costumes, I had to improvise.”

 

“You totally knocked over a sporting goods store,” Fusco shook his head. “You people are a menace.”

 

Reese held up his hands, “For once I’m innocent. Got my outfit through perfectly legal channels.”

 

“You know Root probably ordered that with a stolen credit card.”

 

“You let Cuckoo Clock pick your costume?” Fusco gawped at him. “Did you hit your head or something?”

 

“Even if he did, that wig would soften the blow,” Shaw noted around a bite of yet another burger. She was up to nine now with no signs of stopping.

 

“Well would you look at that,” Fusco said with a smile.

 

“I’d really rather not,” Shaw replied.

 

He shook his head. “Not that thing on Wonderboy’s head.” He pointed towards someone walking through the crowd towards them. “Ain’t that Zoe Morgan?”

 

“Zoe?” Reese coughed. His face was a cross between excited and horrified. Oh this night just kept getting better and better.

 

“I knew when I clocked Finch upstairs that the rest of you couldn’t be far,” Zoe remarked when she finally reached them. She wasn’t wearing a costume as far as Shaw could tell. The deep red dress she was wearing was certainly working for her though.

 

“Zoe,” Reese nodded to her. “Working tonight?”

 

“I have five clients in this room right now, with three more on the guest list,” She replied. “I’m doing my able best to make sure none of them speak to each other.”

 

“And looking lovely while doing it,” Reese smiled. Shaw fought not to roll her eyes. Sap.

 

“Suck up,” Zoe chuckled.

 

Shaw knew there was a reason she liked the woman. “How did you make it in without having to wear some ridiculous costume?”

 

“Who says I’m not in a costume?” Zoe laughed. “Nice Casey Jones, by the way, Shaw.”

 

Fusco gaped at her. “Wait, you know what nutjob our tiniest nutjob is dressed up as?”

 

“Of course,” She shrugged. “My friends and I used to get stoned and watch those movies in college. Especially the second one for some reason.”

 

“For god’s sake don’t tell Root that,” Shaw grumbled. Woman did not need an excuse to revisit the ninja turtle analogy with an audience that could potentially relate. Shaw’s ears were surely bleeding just thinking about it.

 

Zoe smirked but didn’t ask why. “Is she going to be joining this party too?”

 

Shaw nodded, “I’m sure she’ll show, if only to mock John in that outfit.”

 

Zoe turned to shake her head at him. “The one night when you can dress as anything and you’re still walking around in a suit.”

 

“Typically it works for me.”

 

“Not so much this go round,” Fusco chuckled.

 

“I have to agree,” Zoe chuckled. “Grey is not your color, John.”

 

He frowned, “This wasn’t exactly my choice.”

 

“While I am certain Mr. Reese will be rethinking his future fashion choices…”

 

“I didn’t think about this one.”

 

“Obviously,” Shaw deadpanned.

 

“Yes,” Finch cleared his throat. “We are here for a purpose. I believe Mr. Carpenter will be making his way downstairs soon.”

 

“We should probably spread out,” Reese suggested.

 

“I got this area,” Shaw replied.

 

“Perhaps you should cover an area where there are less opportunities for distraction?”

 

“Are you suggesting I can’t eat and kick ass at the same time, Harold?”

 

“N-no.”

 

“Uh huh.” She noticed that the others were looking pointedly at the plate in her hands. “Fine, I’ll take the catering entrance.” But the rest of her snacks were coming with her.

 

Fusco snorted, “You being closer to the source of the food will make you less distracted how?”

 

Shaw grinned at him. “For starters, I’ll be less inclined to take a hockey stick to the side of your head, Lionel.”

 

“You know, that’s a good plan. I think I’ll go guard the fire doors.” He pointed to the opposite side of the room from Shaw’s destination. “Over there.”

 

Reese nodded, “Zoe and I will take the front then.”

 

“Oh,” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Am I being conscripted?” She obviously hadn’t heard what had been said over the comms, but she was smart enough to know they were gearing up for one of their missions.

 

“I thought we could catch up,” He shrugged.

 

Shaw looked over at Fusco, “And you’re accusing me of being the easily distracted one?”

 

“Technically,” He held up a finger, “Glasses said it first.”

 

“No one is going to be distracted,” Zoe cut in. “I’m still on the clock here, and I’m actually getting paid to be here.”

 

Fusco leaned closer to Shaw. “Wonderboy just keeps striking out tonight.”

 

“No one is scoring looking like that,” She replied with a shake of her head. It was tragic really. She’d feel bad for him, if she felt bad about anything.

 

“Just keep your eyes open,” Finch instructed, in an attempt to get everyone back on task. “We could have several hostiles in route.”

 

“Now that really would be a party.”

 

“There’s something wrong with you,” Fusco huffed. “Like more than the usual.”

 

“She spends too much time with Root,” Reese suggested.

 

“Ain’t that the truth.”

 

“At least I’m getting some,” Shaw told them with a smug grin. She turned and disappeared into the crowd before they could reply.

 

She pushed and shoved her way across the floor. Some of these people could really learn to hold their liquor better. Either that or those stereotypes about white guys of a certain age not being able to dance were alarmingly true.

 

Slender fingers wrapped around her wrist. Before Shaw could turn around and pop whatever moron who thought they could touch her in the mouth, a voice whispered in her ear, “I do so love a gal that comes with her own arsenal.”

 

She smirked, “Bout time you showed up.”

 

“Did you miss me that much?”

 

“No,” Shaw scoffed. “Just surprised you were missing such a prime opportunity to make fun of John.”

 

“The night is still young, and I’d much rather talk about you.”

 

She finally turned around and got a good look at Root’s costume. She was wearing a long black leather coat. Half of her hair was pulled back from her face, with the rest tumbling down over her shoulders. To top it all off, Root was wearing a large domino mask over her eyes.

 

“And you are?”

 

“Looking for a partner in crime.” Her non-ability to wink looked even more ridiculous with that mask on. “Interested?”

 

“Vigilante, typically anti-crime.”

 

“Ah but vigilantism is in and of itself a crime,” Root countered. “And technically, I am too.” She pulled Shaw to a less crowded corner of the ballroom. She noted that it had a perfect sightline to the door she was supposed to be guarding.

 

“Yeah, but that show is awful.”

 

Root chuckled. “I would have gone with the comic version but spandex and a belly window is a bit impractical outside of the bedroom.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” Shaw drawled. Root in spandex had lots of potential in her mind. And on that table. Bent over the bar…

 

“Honestly, I mainly went with this look because of the coat.” Root did a little twirl. “I think the swish adds a certain air of mystery.”

 

“Nerd.”

 

“Now, now, Sweetie. I do believe that glass house of yours is seconds from cracking.” She flicked Shaw’s hockey mask.

 

“I had to improvise with the costume.” She’d seen the older style goalie mask in the shop window and decided to go with it.

 

“And as always I appreciate your ingenuity, just not the slight whisper of hypocrisy.” She smirked, “Nerd.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I’m only dressed like this for the mission.”

 

“Oh now there’s one I haven’t heard in a while.”

 

“What?” Shaw asked not realizing what she had said. “The job required a costume. Skynet and the bouncers were adamant about that.”

 

“I know, Sweetie. It’s just that you used to blame a lot of things on the mission.” She smiled. “You were just so adorable. Following me for the mission. Saving me for the mission.” Root leaned in so that her lips brushed against Shaw’s ear. “Fucking me for the mission.”

 

Shaw snorted. “I never did that for the mission.”

 

Root pulled back to gape at her. “But…”

 

“I think by this point I can admit I did that for me.” She stepped into Root’s personal space. “And I plan on doing you for me a few times tonight, once this job is over.” She slapped Root on the ass to punctuate that statement. “You can even leave the coat on.”

 

Root laughed. “I knew this was an excellent choice.”

 

“You know you look good,” Shaw agreed. “But that show still sucks.”

 

“But the outfit does come with nifty party favors.” Root held up what looked like a miniature crossbow. She used it to point at something over Shaw’s shoulder. “Four o’ clock.”

 

Shaw turned to look in that direction. Three men who were dressed like wait staff but clearly weren’t, were shuffling along the wall towards the door to the catering area. Root leaned her head on her shoulder. “Want to go play?”

 

Shaw pulled the mask back down over her face. “Keep your eyes on the number boys. Root and I have some party crashers to deal with.”

 

They shoved their way through the crowd. The men had already slipped inside by the time they reached the door. They followed. The hallway immediately behind the door way was empty, but Shaw could hear the echo of voices once the doors closed behind them. “Down there.”

 

Root took Shaw by the elbow and pulled her to a stop when they were almost at the end of the hallway. “Slowly,” She instructed. The pair of them eased their heads around the corner. There were way more than three guys waiting by the elevator. “Looks like our boys were here to meet some friends.”

 

“At least they were lazy enough to skip the stairs.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“I’ll take the five on the left. You go for the three on the right.”

 

Root pouted. “Greedy.”

 

Shaw pulled a hockey stick from the bag on her back. They had to be quiet about this one. Gunshots would cause all the partiers to panic and they might lose the number in the impending scrum. “You’re lucky I’m letting you have any at all.”

 

“Sharing is caring, Sameen.” Root lifted the tiny crossbow once again and fired. A dart of some kind shot forward and hit one of the men on the left side of the group in the neck. He fell to the ground. “There nice and even.”

 

“That thing actually works?”

 

“Of course,” Root replied as if it should have been obvious. “You know how seriously I take my props, Sam.”

 

“Hey!” One of the men shouted. Most of them began to rush down the hallway at root and Shaw.

 

“We can’t let any of them get on the elevator.”

 

“Don’t worry, Sameen. She’s holding the doors closed.”

 

Shaw rolled her shoulders and twirled the stick in her hands. “Then let’s get to work.”

 

She ran towards the charging men. When she was within two feet of them she dropped to her knees and into a slide. She held the hockey stick out with both hands and rammed the ends of it into the legs of two of the men that she slid between. They both toppled over. She twirled the hockey stick around and slammed it into the temple of one of the men.

 

The other man reached out and grabbed the stick before it could connect with his face. Shaw yanked it back throwing him off balance. He fell back on to his hands and knees. Shaw punched him in the side of the head.

 

Shaw saw a third man fall out of the corner of her eye, another of Root’s little darts in his neck. “That’s two for me already,” Root laughed.

 

Shaw punched her man in the face again. “I’m catching up.”

 

Root darted past her, reaching into her bag and pulling out a baseball bat. “Mind if I borrow this?”

 

“What?” Shaw asked as she finally knocked her man out. “You run out of party favors?”

 

“Reloading takes too long.”

 

Shaw was about to reply when another man kicked out at her. She dropped on to her belly and then quickly sprang back up on her feet. Oh this was going to be fun. She swung the hockey stick at him but he caught it. The man laughed. So did Shaw a moment later, when she kicked him in the balls. “I’ve always been more of a football fan.”

 

“Oh that one was awfu…oof.”

 

Shaw whipped around to see one of the men was looming over Root who was doubled over. He brought up his knee and hit her in the face. Root fell over. Shaw charged toward them.

 

Unfortunately, there were still two other men to worry about. While one remained by the elevator, the second ran at Shaw, keeping her from going to aid Root. She snarled as she ducked under his clumsy swing. “Oh you picked the wrong job.”

 

She punched him just under the ribs. He puffed out a pained breath. She hit him again. He staggered back to create some space between them. Shaw took it as an opportunity to pull the nine iron from the bag on her back.

 

She heard a scuffle behind her. But before she could spare a backwards glance her opponent was swinging at her again. His fist clipped her jaw. Her vision wavered for half a second before she recovered and ducked out of the way of his next blow. He stumbled off balance. Shaw brought the golf club around and whacked him across the shoulders. Two more blows brought him to his knees. Shaw broke the club over his head. The man fell face first on to the floor.

 

She turned around. Root was leaning against the wall. Her lip was split and bleeding but her opponent was on the floor. The last man was still by the elevator, staring between them with his mouth hanging open. All in all, it had taken them less than three minutes to dismantle his crew.

 

Shaw reached up and pulled another club from the bag on her back. “You want to try your luck?”

 

He held up his hands and shook his head. Shaw nodded to the hallway behind her. “Get going then.”

 

The man nodded and ran past her. Shaw activated her comms, “The idiot dressed like one of the wait staff about to come running out of the catering entrance, needs to be put in cuffs.”

 

“I’ve got it, Shaw,” Fusco answered.

 

“Are you two okay?” Reese asked a moment later.

 

“Peachy,” Root replied. She winced as the split in her lip pulled. Shaw rolled her eyes and stomped over to her.

 

“He got a lucky shot,” She tried to joke.

 

Shaw wasn’t amused. She palpated her jaw. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

 

“Good,” Root smiled with red teeth. “I have big plans later.”

 

“Ice it first, then we can talk about plans.”

 

“The plans are flexible,” Root prodded the split in her lip with the tip of her tongue. “Because you know, I didn’t break any of my fingers.” She wiggled her left hand in the air to punctuate that statement.

 

Shaw rolled her eyes at her. Before she could reply they heard the stair well door opening on the floor above them. Shaw twirled the golf club. Root put a hand on her arm. “Relax, they’re friendly.”

 

Finch soon came in to view. Shaw snorted at the sight of him. He was dressed in a long white lab coat. A pair of welding goggles perched in his hair, which was looking spiker than usual. He lifted a purple gloved hand to his mouth. “Oh dear.”

 

Root smiled at him. “You missed a good time, Harry.”

 

“We have very different definitions of that term,” He deadpanned. “Are the two of you alright?”

 

“Nothing a little ice and some whiskey won’t fix,” Shaw shrugged.

 

“We’re not out of the woods yet. Judging by Mr. Curtis’ emails, he had contracted more than one group of mercenaries to finish this job.”

 

Root waved off his concern. “Oh I took the rest of those guys out ages ago.” She smirked, “It’s why I was late.”

 

“But Mr. Curtis,” He began to argue.

 

“Our old friend Dani Silva received an anonymous tip about James Curtis’ underworld ties. She and a SWAT team picked him up three hours ago.”

 

Shaw’s eyes narrowed. “Then why did The Machine need all of us here playing dress up?”

 

“She figured we could all use a little fun.” Root held her hand out to her. “Want to go get that ice and then take advantage of the free drinks, since we’re off the clock?”

 

Shaw tapped her ear again. “Hey Lionel. There are seven more guys in the catering hallway that need an ambulance and a set of cuffs.”

 

“Story of my life around you whack jobs,” He grumbled. “Clear out and I’ll take care of it.”

 

“Give us two minutes,” Shaw replied. She stuck the golf club back into the bag. “We have to go get a picture of John before he leaves.”

 

“Trust me,” Root smiled. “She’s already taken several candids and video through the hotel security system.” She glanced over her shoulder at Finch as they walked away. “Come on Harry, you should stick around for the party.”

 

He shuffled along behind them, taking care not to step on any of the unconscious men littering the hallway. “I could use a drink.”

 

Shaw grinned, "Pretty sure you admitting that is a sign of the apocalypse, but since the drinks are free, I'll risk it." 

 

Root squeezed her arm. "Don't worry, Sweetie. She'll warn us about any rain of toads."

 

"God you are such a nerd."


End file.
